


Blank Slate

by Stablemonkey



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackouts, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Canon Elements, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Flashbacks, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is a good brother, Nausea, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Roy Harper, Roy Harper is a good friend, Seizures, Swearing, at least on the outside, not entirely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25859323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stablemonkey/pseuds/Stablemonkey
Summary: When amnesiac Dick Grayson ran away to Blüdhaven, he had hoped that his family would leave him alone and he's done a pretty good job of rejecting them, even changing his name. That is until Jason Todd shows up, the brother he hasn't met yet, who stubbornly refuses to go away. He offers Dick protection from the enemies he can't remember, nothing more, nothing less. And when his memories start to trickle back, Dick is thrown out by the emotions and glimpses of his past, made worse when one of those enemies gets too close and his family get closer.
Comments: 340
Kudos: 733





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've not written for this fandom before and whilst I grew up with DC comics, courtesy of my older brother, I drifted away for many years. So, I apologise if there are any characters that aren't accurate, Tim Drake wasn't even around when I was reading my brother's comics, it was that long ago.
> 
> I've been in a very long dry spell with my writing, couldn't even write a sentence properly, but this story seems to be working for me so hopefully I can finish this and get back to the stories for the other fandom while I'm at it.
> 
> I have to say that I can't wait for Dick Grayson to come back, but I also have no problem with Ric, the poor guy. He gets such bad treatment and I wanted to write a story that would help flesh out what he's going through. The story is slightly off from the comics, but the main theme is there. For one, Roy Harper is in this, because I love him and the relationship he has with Dick in the Outsiders and Titans.
> 
> I have no idea how long this will be, but I have over 26,000 words written so far over four chapters. I hope to post weekly, but I can't promise that, unfortunately.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. :)

Dick Grayson opened his eyes and rolled out of bed with a groan, ignored the thumping headache that was all too common now and headed for the bathroom. Day three in yet another home; the owners would be returning shortly and he had to find somewhere else to stay the night. Still, the facilities here were luxurious; some of the best he’d experienced so far. He washed up, brushed his teeth and packed his toiletries into his bag before he made a quick tidy of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

He hadn’t stayed in the plush master bedroom and opted for the smaller spare room that had clearly been kept for guests. Well, since he was one it seemed appropriate.

The kitchen was a mess, left that way over the days because he was simply too tired to care about it. The owners wouldn’t be happy, but he’d leave them some cash and hopefully that would take the sting out of the home intrusion. He made himself breakfast, swallowed it down without concern for enjoyment and checked that he hadn’t left anything unsafe before he left the house for good.

He sighed heavily as he dumped his bag in the trunk of his cab and slid into the driver’s seat. Weekdays were always busy, which meant finding another place so soon would be harder to do when he was driving all over Blüdhaven. Dick resigned himself to spending a night in his cab, at least for now.

Four hours and a dozen miserable, self-absorbed customers later, Dick stopped for lunch in his favourite cafe. Louisa was a tough cookie, she didn’t stand for any problems in her cafe and most certainly didn’t tolerate aggressive customers. She had taken to Dick when he first started coming here, apparently, he hadn’t been here when he had his memories so that was a plus for him in his book. It meant that he could sit and eat in comfort without someone trying to jog his memory every time.

Dick waved at her as he walked to the counter at the back of the cafe.

“Morning, Ric.” Louisa greeted him with a warm smile. She wiped her hands on the towel tucked into her pocket. “The usual?”

Dick nodded and thanked her as he handed her the cash. He glanced around the room, it looked quieter than usual with four people at one table and another three, each alone, spaced out elsewhere. “Where is everybody today?”

Louisa shrugged. “No clue. You’re the first regular to come in all day, they’re probably all scared about the rumours floating around.”

“What rumours?” Dick asked as he leaned his hip against the counter.

Louisa continued working as she spoke, her back to him. “Apparently, that Red Hood is in town. Some of the locals swear they’ve spotted him over the last few nights.”

Red Hood. Jason. Dick’s brother, so he’s been told.

“And people are running scared, why?” He didn’t want to be irritated by yet another bat hovering around Blüdhaven, and Louisa shouldn’t be on the receiving end of his mood swings whenever his family is brought to mind. “Isn’t he one of the good guys?”

Louisa tipped her head briefly to the side. “Who knows what side he’s on. He did shoot the Penguin in the head. Although, the guy tends to shoot people more than any other bat anyway, so I don’t get why people are so flustered now.”

Dick didn’t respond. His family - even though he had no memories of them, they were still his family - were always around Blüdhaven lately. Either they patrolled at night to cover the loss of Nightwing, or they tracked him down and pestered him. Dick did his best to hide from them, which was exactly why he never settled in his own place, living on the move made it harder for them to follow him. But he couldn’t avoid hearing about them, Batman and Robin would make an appearance in Blüdhaven, Batgirl more frequently. 

It was ironic really, for a guy that was apparently so loved with such a large family and plentiful friends, none of them seemed to be around outside of the select few he didn’t want to see. The family members he had met – except Alfred, that man seemed genuine and nice – were so aggressive and forceful that Dick didn’t want to know them any more than he already did right now.

Dick had met Bruce and Damian, Alfred and Barbara, but he had yet to meet Tim, Jason, Cassandra or Duke. When Bruce spoke of them there was a clear difference. Bruce seemed proud of all of them, but whenever Jason was mentioned, Bruce looked sad and guilty. Jason was the black sheep, or that’s how it seemed to Dick, he guessed shooting the Penguin in the head had something to do with that.

Dick had plenty of friends, again, so he had been told. But, so far, none had come to see him at any point since he had woken up. Dick could reach out to them, but then what would he say? How would he contact them in the first place? After Bruce had shown him the video footage of getting shot in the head, Dick had bolted and not gone back. It meant that everything he owned was still in Gotham since Bruce took it upon himself to empty Dick’s old apartment and relocate his life and belongings to the manor whilst he was in a coma.

“Ric?”

Dick looked up from his contemplation and he realised he had drifted away again, Louisa seemed concerned. “Sorry, just thinking.”

Louisa gave his scar a worried glance. “You’re taking your meds, right?”

Dick playfully sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother.”

She smacked his arm with the towel and they both chuckled. “I worry, you ass.”

“I’m taking my meds,” he confirmed with a nod. “I’m due my next dose, which requires food.”

Louisa scowled at him, but the action was affectionate. “It’s almost done. Go sit down, I’ll bring it over.”

“Thank you,” Dick replied with a smirk and managed to avoid the towel that swiped for him as he stepped away.

Dick sat near the rear of the cafe, not far from the counter. He didn’t want to be near the window just in case any bats wanted to watch him chew food and sip coffee. Louisa brought the food over and placed it in front of him, then returned to the counter. Dick started on his food, head down and keeping to himself.

After a short while, a shadow fell over him and someone slipped into the opposite seat. He kept his head down and glanced up with his eyes only. He finished his mouthful and reached for his coffee to wash it down before he spoke. “When are you going to give up?”

Barbara leaned on the table with her hands clasped together, she looked sad. “I don’t want to, Dick.”

“It’s Ric,” he reminded her. And it was, for everyone around him it was ‘Ric’, because ‘Ric’ meant that they couldn’t latch on, it told them that he didn’t want to be a part of their lives anymore and if they insisted on continuously trying to pull him back in, then ‘Ric’ stayed.

“It never used to be,” Barbara replied. She sounded so deflated, near the end of her energy to keep trying. Dick only needed to push a little further and she would probably stay away for good, at least he hoped that would be the case.

Dick lowered his fork to purposely rub a finger over his scar, Barbara shivered so subtly that anyone would miss it if they weren’t looking for it. “Things change.”

Dick picked his fork up again and continued eating. Barbara leaned forward and placed her hand on top of his, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Please, Ric. You can’t give up, you can’t throw your past away.”

Dick wrenched his hand away and glared at her. “Don’t touch me.” He stood sharply, picked up his plate and mug and headed back to the counter. “Louisa, can you bag this up for me?”

Louisa nodded as she frowned between him and Barbara, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his meds and popped two pills into his mouth. He washed them down with coffee that was still too hot, but he was angry enough not to care.

“Ric, listen, I-”

Dick spun and stared; fist clenched around the bottle in his hand. “No, _you_ listen. I can’t be who you want me to be if I can’t remember, but none of you seem to give a shit about that.”

The tears fell from Barbara’s eyes then and it grated on Dick when this stranger looked at him with pity. 

He pressed on, pushed some more. “What was I before? Some kind of God? Some miracle worker? I can’t pull a memory rabbit out of a fucking hat, Barbara, so just leave me the hell alone!”

Louisa handed him the bagged food and he gave her a nod of thanks before he stomped for the door. Barbara’s footsteps followed him.

“How can you even try to remember if you won’t let us help you?!” Barbara yanked at his arm, turning him to face her. Her face was twisted in anger, the pity gone now as she didn’t get what she wanted.

Dick didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for her, that had long expired when she showed just how much this was for her and not for him. He didn’t care who heard their exchange, only that she did. “Help? Is that what you call it?”

She didn’t reply, he sneered at her. “ _My family’s_ idea of help is showing me a video of me getting shot in the head! _Your_ idea of help is getting angry because I can’t remember _you_. Damian is angry that I don’t remember him, apparently that makes me _pathetic_. Bruce is angry that he was prepared to keep me _locked_ _up_ at his home until I was _fixed_! That’s not help, that’s selfishness! Why the fuck would I _ever_ want that?”

“Dick, please!” Barbara replied with a scrub at the tear tracks on her cheeks. For a moment she looked genuinely guilty, but it disappeared as she raised whatever bat shields she had learned over the years to give her expression a stony feature.

“Don’t call me that,” Dick replied as he wrenched his arm free from her grip. “Just leave me alone.”

He left the cafe and headed to his cab, he put his food aside, no longer hungry, started the car and pulled away.

He drove for a while, eventually he arrived at the outskirts of the city. It was far enough from the busy streets and isolated enough that no bats would be watching as he leaned his forehead against his fists that wrapped around the steering wheel. His breathing stuttered, chest tightening as tears slipped off his face to land on his jeans.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t _tried_. He’d worked hard with therapists to dislodge whatever was blocking his memories, if they even remained at all. At the hospital, stuck in bed, he would lay there and think until it hurt, spending hours and hours scratching at his thoughts but nothing worked. So, he settled for waiting and being who he was now, hoping that something would click. It wasn’t enough for them, so they pushed and pushed, and Dick snapped, broke down and ran. 

He had cried then, cried for parents that were recently dead. Just as he did now. 

The brain was a strange thing. He only remembers his time with his parents, but he thought and acted and moved like an adult. He could remember a recent time when his dad would pick him up as if he weighed nothing at all, but whenever he looked in the mirror all he saw was an ugly, scarred and broken man. A man familiar with this skin, used to the movement and flow as he lived, with a grown mind but memories of the circus and his parents so very fresh and young. It was confusing. _Everything_ was confusing. 

He lifted his head from the headrest and glanced at the night sky out of his side window, he looked to the passenger seat and noticed the food had been eaten, the radio that had been on at a low volume was now off and Dick sighed.

He’d lost time again.

He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened, he’d blacked out enough that the battery had died and he was now stranded at the city limits with a dead car and a long walk in any direction.

He wasn’t alone, though. Ahead of him, a man sat on a bike and was staring at him. Nothing familiar hit him about any of it, not the bike or the person on it. Dick may not remember his old life, but he does watch the news. He could recognise a bat when he saw one. 

He kicked open his door and climbed out, his shoulders were stiff but he avoided stretching just to glare at the newcomer. He had a two-piece mask, black fabric covered his eyes, red metal covered the rest. Older images had him wearing a leather jacket and a red hood, newer ones had this style.

“So, you’re the Red Hood.” Dick closed his door and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“Hey, Dickie.”

Dick opened his mouth to correct him, but Jason climbed off his bike and stomped toward him. Dick pushed off the car and backed away, seeing the motion as a threat. Jason stopped and tipped his head to the side, confused.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” Dick replied.

Jason chuckled. “Trust me, I’m not.”

Dick growled, irritable. “What do you want?”

Jason sighed and his whole posture relaxed, he turned and sat back against the hood of Dick’s car. “I’m not allowed near you, Bat’s orders.”

Dick frowned. “Why?”

“Because they don’t want me upsetting your fragile brain, that’s why.” Jason reached up and removed the metal portion of his mask. “Or maybe because Bruce thinks I’ll murder you or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Who the fuck says he gets to decide that?” Dick didn’t know why that made him so angry. Yet another example of his brain trauma causing strange behaviours to add to the confusion that he faced whenever they came to see him. And yet another example of Bruce Wayne imposing his authority over him. 

Jason’s jaw dropped open, he clearly hadn’t been expecting that kind of reply from Dick and who could blame him? It’s not like he’s met the man since he’d woken up in the hospital.

Dick pushed on. “They want me to come home, be with the family and try to fix my brain but my brother has to stay away? What the hell? I don’t understand any of you, you don’t make sense.”

Jason shrugged. “Bruce never has been easy to understand, there's only ever been one person who could work him out and he ain't around right now.”

Dick huffed. “And who would that be?”

“You,” Jason replied.

Dick turned and started to walk back to the city. He didn’t care how long it would take, but he wasn’t sticking around here for another bat to try and get him to go home.

“Where are you going?” Jason said as he followed behind.

“Away from bats,” Dick continued to walk away. 

His arm was snagged and he turned to deliver a punch but Jason batted it away, he didn’t counter and Dick stood still as he waited for Jason to make the next move.

“Dickie, I’m not here to try and convince you to go back.” Jason laughed then. “I’d be a hypocrite for trying.”

“Then what do you want?” Dick tugged his arm free. “I don’t remember you, Jason. I can’t remember!”

Jason considered him for a moment. “I’m not looking to be remembered. If it happens, it happens.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

Jason shuffled his foot over the rough stones under his boot as he stared at the ground. “I’ve been here for hours Dickie. I’ve watched you sit and stare at nothing, zoned out and not having any awareness of your surroundings. You didn’t react when I spoke to you, you let the battery die on that shit heap you call a car.”

“So, you’re worried about me?” Dick was surprised. Considering the rumours surrounding the Red Hood and what little his family had divulged about Jason, he didn’t think the guy would be concerned about him at all.

Jason gestured with his arm toward their abandoned vehicles and they both turned to walk back to them. “I wasn’t going to leave you there like that, so I waited. During that time, I dug up your medical files and yeah, I’m worried.”

Dick didn’t respond, Jason took that as permission to continue. “I’m not asking you to go back to the manor, not asking you to change your life here. I just don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone all the time.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Dick grumbled.

Jason kept his eyes on Dick as he opened his driver’s door and turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. He raised an eyebrow and Dick took the hint. 

He waved his arms in frustration. “Okay, that doesn’t happen all the time. In fact, it’s never happened before today.”

Jason sighed and straightened; he left the door open. “Look, I get it. I know how frustrating the family can be, and what they’ve done is push you away when they’re trying to pull you back in and that’s dangerous. You have enemies, Dickie, some know your civilian ID. You can’t be spacing out like that, not when they’re out there waiting.”

Dick shrugged. “I’ve done okay so far.”

“None of these are gonna ring any bells for you,” Jason continued without commenting on Dick’s clearly childish remark. “The Court of Owls, the League of Assassins, Deathstroke, there’s a whole lot more. All of them will see this as an opportunity and if someone isn’t watching your back, they will come for you.”

“So, a bodyguard instead of a babysitter, is that it?”

“A brother,” Jason replied with a growl. “I’m not Bruce, I won’t try to make you remember anything if that’s what you want, but I’m not letting you get killed by someone who comes knocking when you’re vulnerable.”

Dick watched him carefully, searching for a lie. Dick knew his past life had earned him enemies, He knew he had been Nightwing and that that title had earned him a bullet in his head. It made sense that should these enemies find him as he is, he wouldn’t stand a chance simply because he wouldn’t see the threat coming if he didn’t know what to look for. But Jason was prepared to help him and he’d been firm with his reasoning of brotherhood, adamant that that was all the explanation required.

More importantly, he hadn’t once treated Dick like a ghost of a lost family member, or a disappointing shadow of someone he should be. Time would tell if that changed, Dick certainly hoped that it didn’t.

“I don’t want to see them.”

Jason nodded. “Okay.” 

“And if this is a trick,” Dick continued. “If you’re manipulating me into meeting with them and forcing me back, I’m gone. I’ll disappear and you won’t find me again, I don’t care how good the bat says he is, if I don’t want to be found, I won’t be.”

“Trust me,” Jason said as he headed to his bike and squatted down beside it. He pulled a small device free from a hidden compartment and returned to the car. “We’re not exactly on the best of speaking terms.”

Dick watched as Jason popped the hood and meddled around underneath, after a few minutes he called out. “Give it a try.”

Dick leaned in and turned the key, the car fired up. Jason dropped the hood back down and walked to Dick’s side of the car. “I’ll follow you back to your place.”

“I don’t have a place,” Dick replied as he sat in fully and turned the radio off.

“Where the hell have you been living all this time?” Jason asked incredulously. 

“Vacant houses, sometimes the car.”

“You sleep in this piece of crap? Are you nuts?”

“Hey,” Dick snapped. “If you had bats following you around all the damn time, you’d be on the move too.”

Jason’s jaw worked and Dick could practically hear his teeth grinding together. After composing himself he waved Dick off and headed for his bike. “I’ve got a safehouse in Blüdhaven, we’ll stay there.”

Dick was pretty sure he had safehouses around too, but he didn’t know where any of them were and even if he did, he couldn’t guarantee that they weren’t monitored or run by any bats.

As Jason pulled away and Dick followed behind, he mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t once corrected Jason about his name.

Jason’s safehouse was the top floor of a rundown apartment, which meant the building was lightly populated, considering the location it wasn’t that much of a surprise. The main room was furnished with the basics and the open planned layout gave a full view of every entry point, the kitchen area had one wall of cabinets and an island set centrally. Dick adjusted the bag on his shoulder as Jason kicked the door closed with his foot.

“I’ll need to make a run for supplies.” Jason said as he reset the alarm and headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got stock here for emergencies but nothing fresh.”

There was a book on the coffee table, a bookmark in place about half-way through. A television sat opposite the single couch, a bookcase that seemed to be steadily accumulating books stood against the wall, behind the couch. 

“You like to read, huh?” Dick said as his eyes strained to see some of the titles.

Jason huffed and it caught Dick’s attention. Jason met his eyes and sobered. “Sorry. I know you don’t like to be reminded of the whole memory thing, but hearing you say something like that is weird. I’m a stranger to you, I’ve gotta remember that.”

Dick sucked in a deep breath to settle himself. He was used to this from the others, but it didn’t sting as much with Jason. He didn’t look frustrated and angry about Dick’s lack of memory, he was simply accepting of it. Dick forced a subject shift. “You’ve been staying here. Do the bats know about it?”

Jason rummaged through the cupboards, he had a quiet ‘aha!’ moment and closed the door with a mug in his hand. “Do they know I’m in Blüdhaven? Most likely what with the rumours spreading that I’ve been seen around. Do they know about this safehouse? No, definitely not.”

Dick sat on the couch and picked up the book, careful not to knock the bookmark. Jason was busy making coffee which left him time to read the back. “You like romance novels?”

“I like plenty of genres,” Jason replied. “Which one I pick, depends on my mood at the time.”

“And currently, it’s romance,” Dick hummed, deep in thought. “Who’d have thought that big bad Red Hood is a secret softy underneath.”

Jason shrugged as he approached with a mug of coffee in each hand, he placed them down on the coffee table and sat next to Dick with enough space between them to fit a third person. “My reputation precedes me, even if the bad guys knew I like a good romance novel they’d still be scared.”

Dick picked up the mug and blew across the top before he took a tentative sip. “The reputation where you shoot people?”

Jason smirked over the rim of his own cup. “The beheadings in the early days, more likely.”

Dick stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

Even with that admission, Dick wasn’t afraid, which was weird. He took another sip of his coffee. “Bad guys?”

“Yup.”

What little Dick knew of Bruce, this revelation might go some way to defining why the two weren’t all that comfortable with each other. Jason peeled off his mask and threw it on the table. He settled back, one leg crossed over the other and one arm draped over the back of the couch. Dick watched him and tried to see something familiar now that his face was fully exposed, but just as with everyone else, his mind was blank.

“I haven’t freaked you out, have I?”

He met Jason’s eyes and shook his head minutely, he realised that his staring was probably uncomfortable for Jason and looked down at his coffee as he dropped back into the couch himself. “Just trying to place the face.”

“No luck, huh?”

“No,” Dick replied with a sigh. “Not that that’s a surprise.”

They sat in silence for a while until Jason broke it. He leaned forward with his empty mug, placed it on the table and swivelled to face Dick. “I gotta ask, but feel free to tell me if this is a no-go area.”

Dick finished his own cup but kept it in hand, he nodded for Jason to continue.

“Do you _want_ to remember who you were?”

“I did, at first.” Dick replied, with the truth. “I woke up scared and alone, but I had all these strange, unfamiliar faces around me that smiled and seemed happy to see me. I had to learn all the basics again. My brain had to learn when to recognise that I needed to pee, I had to learn how to hold things in my hands, learn to walk again. Through all that, Barbara was there. It seemed good, you know?”

Jason watched him, expressionless. It was soothing, in a way, that he didn’t show how he was feeling as Dick talked. “What changed?”

“Physically, things moved along. But mentally? I couldn’t recognise any of them even after all that time in therapy.” Dick leaned forward and rubbed at his head, another of his random headaches steadily forming behind his eyes and he rubbed at them with his thumb and index finger. “Then it didn’t feel the same.”

“What do you mean?” Jason frowned and Dick couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or if he could see that Dick was in pain.

“They started getting frustrated with me,” Dick replied. He reached for his bag and rummaged around for his pills. He’d missed his scheduled dosage a few hours ago now, he should be taking them with food but he knew he didn’t have time for that. “They were subtle about it, no one else would spot it but I did. It started to feel like they were trying to get my memory back for _them_ and not for _me_.”

Dick’s hands started to shake and Jason leaned forward to help him find his meds. Dick leaned back and let him search alone, the headache was growing faster now. “Then Bruce showed me the video, the one where I’m talking and then a bullet is piercing my skull. My suit is on display with my blood still on it and he just…”

Dick had closed his eyes at some point and he didn’t realise, not until a hand took his and two pills were dropped into his open palm. Dick popped the pills into his mouth with a shaky hand as Jason moved toward the kitchen, he tried to dry swallow them but he couldn’t and was grateful for the glass of water that Jason returned with. He swallowed the pills and took a few more gulps of water before Jason took the glass from his trembling hands.

“He got angry,” Dick continued, even with darkness tinting the edges of his vision. He needed to get this out, needed someone to know about it that wouldn’t judge him for it. That would understand why he ran. “He shouted at me to remember. He didn’t _get it_ , that I _can’t_ , I tried, I really did but _nothing_ came back and he was angry about it.”

“Dickie…”

Dick fell back onto the couch, his eyes weighed down with pain and exhaustion and a brain that had been through a blender. “And Barbara, she won’t listen. She refuses to accept me for who I am now, and it hurts because I’ve tried and it isn’t good enough for any of them.”

“Dickie…”

Dick was so tired. His eyes closed. “Who wants to live with a family like that?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is used to being on his own. Now that his brother is offering him a place to stay, and bringing a surprise friend along, he's having to adjust.
> 
> He didn't need a bad day at work, and then an equally bad evening, to make matters more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a BIG thank you to everyone, I wasn't expecting that much interest in my story and I am amazed by it. 
> 
> Thank you so much, everyone :)
> 
> I've surprised myself, this chapter is a day early, it's not the chapter that I had originally written, though. I thought the old version was a little too soon, timeline wise, so that one might pop up further down the line. Oh! And apologies if it's a little sloppy, I've been changing bits and pieces here and there, so there might be something I've missed.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. :)

Dick woke up to voices, they were in the same room but hushed, most likely to avoid disturbing him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and ignored the dull throb at the back of his head, squinting in the morning light and groaning as his body protested any kind of movement so soon after waking. The couch probably didn’t help, either.

The voices stopped and Dick blinked to clear his eyes of the blur as Jason walked toward him.

“Morning,” Jason said, squatting down to Dick’s level. “How’re you feeling?”

Dick glanced over Jason’s shoulder at the newcomer Jason had been talking to and frowned. He hadn’t moved from the kitchen area and wasn’t even looking in their direction. “Apprehensive.”

“That’s Roy, he’s an old friend.” Jason offered, but it did little to comfort Dick.

“Oh yeah?” Dick sat up fully, swinging his legs over the seat of the couch to sit on the edge. “Why is he here?”

“The ‘old friend’ part didn’t sell it for you?”

“Considering what my _family_ have done for me lately? No, not really.”

“Put the poor guy out of his misery, Jay.” Roy said, his back still to them both. “You’re freaking him out.”

Jason huffed, smiling. “Roy is someone we’ve both known for a long time, you’ve known him longer than me. He’s here to help out.”

Dick looked between the two men. He’d only met Jason the evening before and that didn’t automatically instil trust, even if he were his brother, and bringing in another person so quickly had him questioning his choice to follow in the first place. “Do you plan to bring more people here while I’m unconscious?”

Roy barked a laugh as Jason replied. “Just him, smart ass.”

Something sizzled and Dick turned his head to Roy, whose arms moved over the stove doing something that Dick couldn’t see. Jason stood up and made his way over, picking up a knife and cutting slices of a fresh loaf of bread. It was all very… domestic and synchronised, as if the two were familiar enough in each other’s space that they made it look smooth and efficient.

Dick stood and stretched then walked over to the kitchen island. “Need any help?”

“We got it,” Roy said, gesturing to the door next to the bookcase. “Why don’t you go freshen up? There’s a new toothbrush sitting on the sink and I picked up a change of clothes that’ll fit you.”

Dick watched them for a moment longer and then headed for the bathroom. When he stepped inside and closed the door, he saw the sink top had the packaged toothbrush with the clothes on a shelf by the door.

He brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and showered quickly. The blue jeans and white t-shirt were comfortable and exactly the right size, and it was nice to wear something new and clean. He didn’t have much in the way of clothing and had to wear them for longer or wash them more frequently, so the new set was a welcome addition.

The food was ready and plated when he came back into the living space, Jason and Roy waited for him and he sat down at the island opposite them.

“Thanks for the clothes,” he said, tugging at his shirt for emphasis. “They fit perfectly.”

“No problem,” Roy replied, picking up a rasher of bacon and biting. After he finished the mouthful, he nodded Dick’s way. “You’re a little bulkier than you used to be, more upper body strength.”

“Yeah, I uh… I do a little boxing now and again.”

Jason snorted. “You mean the underground matches you’ve been going to?”

“How’d you know about that?” Dick said, surprised. Roy lifted a brow, looking impressed but remained quiet.

“I hear things,” Jason replied, shrugging one shoulder.

He didn’t offer anything further and Dick didn’t push for more. It wasn’t like he was choosing to hide what he did here, the boxing might have started as a form or rebellion to prove a point to Bruce that he could manage on his own, but the money he made soon changed his incentive.

He looked down at the plate, the scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and french toast smelled delicious. There was an empty glass by his plate and a chilled carton of orange juice in the middle of the island. Roy picked it up and poured him a glass, filling his own and Jason’s afterwards.

The two men continued with their breakfast and Dick watched them, focusing on Roy for longer as he tried to see or feel anything familiar about the man. As usual, there was nothing.

“It’s not poisoned,” Jason said between bites of egg. “Or drugged.”

Dick shook his head and picked up his fork. “That’s not what I was thinking about.”

Jason looked between the two of them. “Trying to remember him?”

“Yeah,” Dick said with a sigh. “I should be used to the disappointment by now.”

“If your memories are still in there,” Roy said, smiling as he waved his fork in a circle, gesturing to his head. “They’ll come back when they’re ready.”

“And if they don’t and they really are gone?”

Jason cut into his french toast, looking up and at Dick when he had the piece speared on his fork. “Then everyone will just have to deal with it, and you live your life how you want to.”

Dick shook his head, puzzled. “I don’t understand how you’re so different from them, how you just accept this so easily.”

“I’m not them,” Jason said. He focused back on his food and Dick took the hint that he wasn’t going to elaborate further. He turned to Roy instead.

“And _you’re_ okay with this?”

Roy gave him a smile. “You’re alive, that’s what matters. Memories or not, I’ll still be here for you.”

Dick wished the others in Gotham had been this generous, instead of the demanding push to erase the person he was now and bring back the man that they wanted. The pressure of their persistent denial of his present self weighed him down to breaking point, and for the first time, that weight had lifted with the meeting of these two men.

“Thank you,” he said, quiet and meaningful. Roy simply nodded and nothing more was said.

As Dick worked his way through the food on his plate, he listened to the casual conversation that Jason and Roy had started between the two of them. They talked about people he had never heard of and he had no idea if they were past acquaintances of his or completely unrelated to him, he didn’t want to interrupt them to ask.

Once he was finished, he left the table and went for his bag to go through the usual ritual of taking his pills. He took them back to the table, put two in his palm and washed them down with the remainder of his orange juice in his glass. Jason and Roy were slower to finish and once they were done, Dick gathered all the plates and moved to the sink.

He started to run the water as Roy appeared at his side, he gave him a brief look before refocusing on his task.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Dick shrugged. “You cooked; I clean.”

“Okay,” Roy replied, placing the glasses by the side of the sink. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and studying Dick. Thankfully, he was on Dick’s good side, so he didn’t have to worry about the man looking at his scar like some people tended to do. “So, still feeling apprehensive?”

“A little,” Dick glanced at him, then back to scrubbing the plate in the soapy water. “My experience of meeting people from my past hasn’t been all that great. I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop with each new face I meet.”

“Jason said things weren’t so good between you and Bruce,” Roy said, glancing behind Dick and most likely looking at Jason. “The guy is difficult enough to deal with when you’ve known him a while, not so easy when it’s a first time all over again.”

“Or when he has expectations that you can’t meet.” Dick added darkly.

“That too.”

“So, how did we know each other?” Dick said, pulling a clean plate from the water and placing it on the rack.

“We met when we formed our own little hero gig, you, me, a few others.”

“We were in a team?”

“Yeah,” Roy said, soft and fond, as if thinking back on it brought back pleasant memories. “We were the Teen Titans.”

“Teen Titans?” Dick smirked. “Isn’t that a little… pretentious?”

Roy chuckled. “We were kids, trying to prove that we were just as good as the adults. Plus, we did have an Amazon, an Atlantean and a speedster on the team, the title qualified.”

“So, are _you_ superpowered?” Dick said, reaching out behind Roy for the glasses.

“No.” Roy shifted out of his way, even though he didn’t need to. “You and I are were the only ones without powers.”

Dick frowned. “Why have us on the team at all? Sounds like they wouldn’t need us.”

“Just because we don’t have powers, doesn’t mean we don’t have anything to offer. You used to be the leader, so did I, for a while.”

Dick found that hard to believe, he couldn’t consider himself leader material, certainly not right now. But if he had been in the past, then he must have had _some_ qualities that made him worthy of the role.

When he had been told he was Nightwing, Dick had thought it absurd. The very idea that he would wear a costume at night and go out in search of danger to protect the innocent, seemed like a fairytale, something he would fantasise about as a child but would never really happen. He had entertained the notion at first, when his family were happy that he was awake, but the longer he remained an amnesiac, the more frustrated the family became with him. He started to reject the idea when they started to show their true colours, then showing him the night he was shot cemented the rejection completely.

He had left, refusing to give more of himself over to them. He was the one with an injury, but it seemed to him that they were the ones that needed the attention. If they had shown more compassion for his situation, he would have stayed, would have given them the chance to tell him about his former life. But they were too hasty, too selfish, and now here he was, learning more about his past from someone else that knew him well.

Roy had said they were kids when they started this, did that mean that Dick had been a vigilante all that time? He went from losing his parents to fighting crime, to leading a team of young heroes that dared to put their lives on the line for complete strangers. He was a child that was lucky enough to live that fairytale, but clearly the dream wasn’t as pleasant as the reality, considering his life right now.

He couldn’t imagine being Nightwing, not after what Bruce had showed him. And with his suit on display like a trophy, some glorious accolade to a hero that lost so much; it was unappealing. He tried to consider that it was a reminder, something to warn the others in the family to be cautious to save them from having to experience the same thing. But Bruce had seemed more interested in gaining Dick’s memories back just to throw him into that suit again, probably the same one that they hadn’t bothered to clean before they mounted it in that case.

“Harper, did you just break my brother?”

Dick huffed, a half-smile quirking his lips. He turned to his other side and looked at Jason. “I’m fine.”

Jason narrowed his eyes, taking an assessment for himself. Eventually, he seemed satisfied with Dick’s answer and nodded. “Alright. Are you planning to go to work today?”

“Yeah,” Dick replied. “Is that a problem?”

Jason held up a small, metal pin badge. “I want you wearing this.”

Dick dried his hands and took the pin from Jason’s fingers. “What is it?”

“It’s a tracker,” Jason said. “I want to know where you are, at all times.”

“No.” Dick put the tracker on the counter and turned away, walking over to his duffle for a clean pair of socks. He looked up at Jason as he tugged them on, then slipped his feet into his shoes. “I’m not wearing that.”

Jason sighed, he sounded like a man dealing with an uncooperative child, which wasn’t that far out. “Dick, just put the damn thing on.”

“I’ve been here for months, Jason and not a single thing has happened.” Dick snapped, getting to his feet and picking his jacket up off the back of the couch. “That isn’t going to suddenly change just because you show up.”

“And wearing this isn’t going to change anything either,” Jason countered. “It’s precautionary. You won’t even notice it.”

“I work daylight shifts.” Dick said, throwing his jacket on and checking his pockets for his keys and wallet. “Who’s going to attack me when the sun is up?”

“They only need to lure you somewhere isolated.” Jason rounded the island and approached him, the pin badge in his hand. “You drive a cab to wherever you’re told, it isn’t going to be hard for them to get you where they want you to be.”

Dick sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t like being tracked.”

“I get it,” Jason said, his voice softer than before. “You spend your time wondering if every shadow has a bat inside it, if they’ve tagged you without you knowing. But even if nothing has happened yet, doesn’t mean it won’t soon. It’s not a secret that Nightwing is out of commission, sooner or later, someone will come.”

“Dick, only the two of us will be able to see the signal, no one else.” Roy added, keeping his distance and staying by the sink.

Dick looked to the ceiling, knowing that what they were saying was right but wanting fight it anyway.

He didn’t like being tracked because when he had first come here, he was sure that was how they were finding him, he even changed out everything he owned just to test his theory.

They still found him, but just because he didn’t find any proof, didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

“Fine.” He breathed, slumping with defeat. He held out his hand and Jason dropped it onto his palm, he fussed around pinning it to his jacket and then waved his arms. “Happy?”

“Yes,” Jason said, crossing his arms and smiling smugly in victory.

Dick rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?” Dick said, turning around. He caught the bottle of pills that Roy threw to him, and internally kicked himself for forgetting about them. He nodded with a quiet thank you at Roy before slipping out the door.

The morning rush shouldn’t ever be called that, not when Dick was stuck in traffic with his customer complaining in the backseat about how late he was going to be. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it, and the guy should’ve left a little earlier to avoid this if getting there on time was so important.

He had barely moved in the last twenty minutes, but that was still no excuse for the man to throw his money at him and get out mid-fare.

Dick was picking the bills off his lap when the rear door opened, and another passenger climbed inside, even before he could light up his sign. Dick sighed and reset his meter, glancing in his mirror at the new face.

“Probably faster to take the subway,” he said, foregoing any greeting.

“I’ve got time,” the man replied, smiling at him through the reflection.

With the way he settled back into the seat, he certainly planned to ride out the whole way, regardless of the traffic. He was dressed casually with black jeans, black t-shirt and a dark grey bomber jacket. His short, white hair and trimmed beard were impeccably styled. He had a black eyepatch covering his right eye, which kept the man’s head slightly turned to the right as he continued to watch Dick.

“Where to?” Dick asked, mentally visualising the man in a Tricorne.

“Central Business District,” he said, still watching Dick. He didn’t like the scrutiny but there wasn’t much he could do about it, so he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

“You’re better off with the Red Line North, pal.” Dick shifted the car forward, barely moving six feet. “We’re going to be here a while.”

“Like I said, I’ve got time.”

Dick shrugged. “It’s your dollar.”

Dick tapped the steering wheel with his thumb, growing annoyed with the wait as time ticked by. This was his second fare of the morning and he’d usually be up to at least six by now, which meant something big had to have happened up ahead for them to be stuck this long. He glanced at the meter, then into the mirror at his passenger. He was still watching.

“Seriously, you’re wasting your money.”

“How long have you been driving cabs, Grayson?”

Dick wasn’t surprised at the use of his name, his identification was on display for the customers to see, still, this man made it sound uncomfortably personal.

“A few months,” Dick said, turning his gaze to look out the windscreen.

“Not a long time,” he replied, a smile in his tone. Dick did his best not to look back, but the idea that this man might try to slit his throat while he wasn’t looking had him checking the mirror again. “What did you do before this?”

“No idea,” Dick responded. He lowered his window, fighting the urge, but ultimately giving up and giving himself a ready escape route.

“Would that have anything to do with that scar on your head?”

“You don’t miss much, do you?” Dick snapped back.

The man chuckled. “No, not often.”

Mercifully, the traffic started to move, which seemed to be enough to halt their conversation.

By the time they reached the Business District, Dick had missed his scheduled meds, but he was much more interested in dropping off his fare and getting the hell out of there.

“Stop here.”

Dick pulled over and put the car in park, he reached out to stop the meter and wondered how crazy this man could be to pay this amount of money just to avoid the train. There was movement in his peripheral vision, which made him shift to the side sharply. The man had leaned forward and was close enough now that Dick could see the colour of his eye. It was a light blue, almost grey in the daylight. He was smirking, entertained by something.

“No memories, but you’ve still got good instinct.”

Dick said nothing as he handed over his cash, not even bothering to count it with him still in his cab. Dick breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened and then closed, he didn’t watch the man leave.

“See you around, Grayson.”

Dick really hoped he didn’t.

The day wasn’t looking much better. After stopping to pick up something to eat, Dick went back out onto the road, determined to limit his downtime as much as possible to make up for the morning’s loss. But, between one blink and the next, he was sitting in a bar and feeling mildly intoxicated.

He lifted the beer bottle up and checked it, seeing it was more than half empty. He sighed and dropped his head. “Damn it.”

“I thought the first time was freaky.”

Dick turned his head and stared at Jason who was sat at the bar beside him, watching the people in the room through the mirror ahead. He was leaning his elbows against the surface and sipping from the bottle in his hand.

“But this one is downright disturbing.”

Dick leaned on the bar and rubbed his eyes, groaning at the loss of time. Disturbing was an understatement.

“And the tracker was a fucking brilliant idea, just so you know.”

Dick took a swig from his own bottle that was in his hand, because why not? “You gave me that in case one of my enemies found me, not for you to track me down whenever you feel like it.”

“I gave you it to you to keep you safe. When you don’t show up when you’re supposed to, I’m going to use it.” Jason spoke calmly, but Dick could tell that he was having a hard time remaining that way.

Dick didn’t like the feeling that he was being scolded. ‘Waking up’ somewhere else was disorientating and frightening, he hadn’t had time to adjust yet and if Jason were going to start something then Dick wouldn’t be happy about that.

“That’s not what I agreed to,” Dick countered. “You said you wouldn’t try to change my life.”

“I’m trying to help you, you dumbass.” Jason turned on his stool to face him and his expression matched his icy tone. “Do you have any idea where you’ve been for the last six hours?”

Six hours was impressive, he hadn’t had one that long since he first moved here. He thought the stability of having a job and finally settling in Blüdhaven had helped to balance them out, but apparently that was wrong. “Not really.”

“Yeah, and that’s a problem.” Jason downed the rest of his beer and stood, dropping cash on the bar. “Finish your drink, we’re leaving.”

Dick did as he was told, even if he didn’t appreciate the tone that Jason had taken with him. As they stepped outside, he couldn’t see his cab anywhere and he really hoped he hadn’t abandoned it in one of the nastier parts of town.

He recognised Jason’s bike the closer they got to it. Jason handed him a helmet with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you sober enough not to fall off?”

Dick glared at him, unamused. “Are you sober enough to drive that thing?”

“I’ve had _one_ beer,” Jason snapped, holding up a finger. “ _You_ , however, have no idea how many you’ve had.”

“Stop reprimanding me like a fucking kid,” Dick growled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m your brother, even if you can’t remember that.” Jason rumbled, stepping closer and looking down on him.

“Yeah?” Dick said, glaring up at him. “Did you talk to the _old_ me like this, too? Did you blame _him_ for shit he had no control over?”

Jason’s eyes flickered briefly, telling Dick he had touched a nerve.

Dick continued. “My blackouts are exactly that… blackouts. I have no control over them and when I wake up, the last thing I want to do is deal with someone angry at me for having one.”

Dick shoved the helmet into Jason’s stomach, uncaring if he had a grip on it or not when he released it, then he turned on his heel and stomped away.

He didn’t need to stay and listen to this. Jason had no idea what it was like to lose time and shouting at him as if it were his fault wasn’t fair. Dick may have grown used to the feeling of suddenly becoming aware of himself in an entirely different location, but the anxiety afterwards never got easier to manage.

Yesterday was different, he blacked out in his cab on the outskirts of the city, exactly where he had parked up. This time he was somewhere else, and it was those ones that troubled him the most. Sure, he tried to put on a brave face and let everyone think he was okay with it, but inside it scared the hell out of him. Six fucking hours, what had he been doing?

“Dickie, stop.” Jason caught up to him and grabbed at his arm. Dick’s forward momentum pivoted him around in the hold.

“Let go,” Dick hissed, yanking his arm free. The people standing outside the bar had quieted, watching with interest at the scene they were creating.

Jason aimed a glare in their direction before looking back at Dick, with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not angry, I’m… concerned.”

“And this is you when you’re worried?” Dick said, brows raised in bewilderment. “Shit, I’d hate to see you when you’re mad.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to see that.” Jason sighed. His shoulders dropped slightly, and he stepped to Dick’s side, blocking Dick from view of the watching crowd. “Look, I know you don’t remember the type of person that I am, but when something is bothering me, I get snappy. It’s not aimed at you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Dick muttered, looking away from him.

“I wasn’t mad at you,” Jason repeated. “Bruce shouldn’t have left you here alone when you’re dealing with shit like this, it’s not right.”

“I was the one that chose to leave,” Dick countered, a little affronted at the idea that Bruce had some level of control over him.

“ _After_ Bruce traumatised you.” Jason pressed, lowering his voice. “If he did a better job at being a father, you’d be home and surrounded by people who could help you.”

“Nobody in Gotham wanted to help _me_.” Dick looked back to him. “They only wanted to help _themselves_.”

“Yeah, well you haven’t got that problem with us.” Jason said, reaching out and giving Dick’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re here because we want to help _you_ , the person you are now. And honestly, if they don’t get that, then to hell with them.”

“I don’t understand,” Dick said, shaking his head. “Why are you so willing to do this for me when they won’t? What’s different about you?”

Jason grimaced; his eyes unfocused for a moment before settling back to Dick. “I know what it’s like to need help and be ignored because I’m not what I’m supposed to be. I don’t conform, so that means I have to change, or leave. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, swallowing in discomfort. “It does.”

“Roy knows how that feels too,” Jason replied. “We’ve _both_ been through it, and it doesn’t matter how long ago it was or what the circumstances were, we _know_ what it feels like. That’s what makes us different from them.”

Dick looked down to the ground. Back in Gotham, he had felt as if they didn’t see him, that they were choosing to ignore this part of him in favour of the old Dick Grayson that was gone. That same pressure to change for them had him trying to keep them happy, to act the part of the missing man and hope that would be enough. It wasn’t, and he found the only option was to leave them. He hated the feeling, hated that he was the one that had to shift to accommodate them. If Jason and Roy had to deal with that same weight, then Dick could understand why they had chosen to help him.

“Did it ever get better for you?” Dick looked back to Jason.

Jason sighed. “Better? Yes. But that kinda damage isn’t something that can ever be repaired, not completely.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Dick offered, giving him a sad smile.

“Don’t go all sappy on me now,” Jason said with a smirk, but Dick noticed the obvious deflection. He applied a small amount of pressure to urge Dick forward and toward his bike. “Come on. We’ll pick up dinner on the way home.”

“But I need to find my cab.”

“No, you don’t,” Jason answered, handing him the helmet again. “You gave us the key and told us where it was. Roy picked it up for you.”

“Oh,” Dick said. At least the ‘him’ during the blackout had been amicable, he knew from experience that that wasn’t always the case. “Thanks.”

Jason nodded and straddled the bike, waiting for Dick to climb on.

When they returned to the safehouse and walked inside, Roy was sitting on the couch with his ankles crossed on the coffee table, idly flicking through channels on the TV. He gave them both a wave from his slumped position, then his eyes darted down to the bag in Dick’s hand.

He stood and took the bag, giving Dick the freedom to remove his jacket and shoes at the door. As soon as Jason did the same, they both made their way over to the island and sat down next to each other, leaving Roy to sit on the opposite side.

Dick unwrapped his food and laid it out on the table, pulling the bun from the top of his burger and extracting the pickles. As he popped them into his mouth, Jason snorted. Dick spared him a glance and noticed he had an amused smile on his face, it stayed there as he turned his attention to his own meal.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jason said with a shake of his head.

Dick frowned and looked to Roy for an answer, the man had his own smile and he pointed at Dick’s food silently. Dick looked between his food and the two men, then realised what had them so cheerful. “Let me guess, a habit of mine from before?”

Jason finished chewing his mouthful of fries before answering. “Yup.”

Dick probably had a lot of habits that were the same for him before his amnesia, he never really looked further into it. After leaving Gotham, he had no one to tell him if he did something like that, until now.

He reassembled his burger and took a big bite, groaning in delight. He hadn’t realised how hungry he had been, he doubted he’d eaten at all during his blackout. With the way the day had gone, he wasn’t sure if he had taken his pills when he picked up lunch, after the creepy, one-eyed man made him sit in traffic for no better reason than avoiding the train.

He pushed up from his seat and headed over to his coat, searching his pockets for his medication. He couldn’t find them. “Hey, Roy? Did I leave my pills in the cab?”

“I didn’t see them in there,” Roy replied.

“Damn it,” Dick huffed. “I’ll need to get some more, but I won’t be able to until Monday.”

The whole weekend without them was a daunting prospect, considering they helped control his symptoms from the brain injury, he didn’t want to know how much worse they could get without them.

“Can’t you pick some up from the pharmacy tomorrow?” Roy asked.

Dick shook his head. “I get them from my doctor during my monthly assessments. Her office will be closed for the weekend, I can’t reach her until Monday.”

“Leslie will have what you need,” Jason said. “I’ll drop in and see her tonight.”

“Who’s Leslie?” Dick walked back to the table and sat down, ignoring his food until he could solve his immediate problem.

“She runs a clinic in Gotham, she’s also the family physician.” Jason rolled his burger wrapper into a ball and dropped it into the bag. “She’s patched you up plenty of times in the past.”

As Nightwing, Dick assumed. “She’s not some illegal, underground doctor, is she?”

Jason laughed. The way he spoke when talking about her suggested he liked her, he was softer in his tone and his expression. “No, she’s legit.”

“Are you sure she can help? My meds are pretty specific.”

“If she doesn’t have them, she’ll know where I can get them. Don’t worry.”

Dick didn’t have much of an option, not without trying to track down his doctor on her weekend off and disturbing her.

In all the time he’d been in Blüdhaven, Dick had never lost his pills. During his blackouts, he may or may not have taken them, but he always came back to himself with them still in his pocket. It was strange that he had lost them now, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Either way, Jason could get him a refill and that meant that he wouldn’t have to bump up his check in with Doctor Haas, he could wait for another two weeks to see her for his scheduled appointment.

Missing two of his required thrice daily doses might pose a problem tonight, but he’ll have to struggle through it. If can sleep the night away then he should be fine, he hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the late chapter, everyone. I've been super busy with work and home life, and then, whenever I tried to write I would keep getting interruptions which made it hard to focus. So, if this chapter feels a little off, you know why. I hope it's not too disappointing. If it's any consolation, it is longer than the previous chapters, just over 7000 words. :)
> 
> Oh! And I went back and made a small edit on chapter 1, nothing major, just one word. When I wrote the chapter, I had written that it was a Monday, but then in chapter 2 it's a Friday, which is a little oops that I've now corrected, sorry about that.
> 
> And I really need to say a HUGE thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and leaving kudos on this story. It still blows me away that there are so many people enjoying this, it really is so nice of you all. Thank you :)

Dick woke up the next morning in the guest bedroom. He had been happy enough to sleep on the couch, but apparently it wouldn’t make sense to have the only one of the three that was untrained – or, at least, amnesic to his former training – sleeping in the main living space while the ones with experience were in the bedrooms. Dick certainly didn’t expect anyone to crash through the door in the early hours of the morning, and their insistence on the arrangement only showed Dick how paranoid you had to be in the hero business.

Spending all your life looking over your shoulder for potential threats sounded exhausting, it must certainly age you mentally, if not, turning you grey sooner than you should. Dick hadn’t found any grey hairs of his own, and if he had been doing this for as long as he thought then there should be a few already.

As Dick pushed himself up from the bed to sit on the edge, he noticed a new bottle sitting on the side table. He frowned, wondering when Jason had sneaked into the room to put it there, and how he had managed to do it without waking him. Dick was a light sleeper, never really falling fully asleep and often catching naps whenever he could to make up for it. He had assumed that it was due to the head injury, but since he learned more about the persona he once held, he soon came to realise that it was a habit that had stuck from before he had been shot.

So, either Jason was exceptionally good at stealth, or Dick was really tired. It was probably a combination of both, but it didn’t matter as Dick picked up the bottle and read the label.

The bottle was identical, with the same type and dosage that he had been taking. The seal was still intact and hadn’t been tampered with. He opened the bottle and peered inside, noticing the same size, shape, and colour of his previous medication. Everything looked okay and Dick sighed in relief, immensely happy that he wouldn’t have to worry about the symptoms he would have suffered without them.

Dick placed the bottle back on the table, picked up his phone and sent a text to his boss, explaining what had happened the day before, apologising and promising to make it up to him. The Blüdhaven Taxi Company was good to him, understanding his situation and giving him plenty of breathing space, which was why he liked working there. They didn’t look at the homeless, amnesiac with ongoing symptomatic brain trauma as anything other than a person who could do the job. Which is more than could be said for other workplaces in the city.

When his boss replied, it was to tell him that it wasn’t a problem and that he could take time off if he needed it, Dick answered with confirmation that he was fine to keep working. And, he was. His blackouts were the least troublesome in terms of physically putting him down for the count, the migraines or seizures were far worse.

He hated those, more than anything, which is why he was so desperate to trust Jason to help him. Rationally, he should have contacted Dr Haas, but she had been so pivotal in his recovery, had taken so much of her free time away to care for him, that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He owed her to find a way to cope on his own, just like she encouraged.

Dick stood up and made his way over to his duffle. He rummaged around inside, finding his running gear and putting it on, then he went back for the bottle and left the room.

Roy sat up from the couch as he walked through the door, groggy from sleep and probably waking up from the small amount of noise that Dick made. Dick smiled and whispered an apology, but Roy waved him off with one hand as he yawned and rubbed his eye with the other.

He caught a glimpse of Dick’s clothes and pulled himself fully upright. “You’re going out?”

Dick gestured to the kitchen area and shook the bottle for emphasis. “Need to take these first.”

Roy nodded lazily, yawning again. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom. “Gives me time to get ready.”

Dick would have protested but he knew it would be pointless. If yesterday hadn’t happened, he would have been in a better position to argue his point that his run would be fine without someone going with him. But Jason had been upset by what had happened, and even though another blackout was unlikely to happen any time soon, his medical complaints weren’t the initial reason that they were here with him anyway, and he would have to learn to accept that this was the new norm.

Dick didn’t think his enemies would attack him in the daylight hours, but Jason and Roy thought the risk was there whatever time of day it was. It made sense that they tracked him when he was at work, since they couldn’t exactly go with him in his cab or follow him around on a bike for the whole day, but a run on a Saturday morning was something they could tag along with.

Thinking about it, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a running partner and being a vigilante must mean that Roy wouldn’t have any trouble keeping up, he was most likely in better physical shape than Dick.

Dick went to the kitchen and found crackers in one of the wall cabinets, he pulled three from the pack and ate them as he made two mugs of coffee. Once the crackers were eaten, he filled a glass with water, took two of the pills and washed them down, finishing the whole glass.

Roy came out of the bathroom by the time he was done, slipping into the bedroom that Dick had slept in. Dick had his turn in the bathroom, and when he came back out, he spotted Roy at the counter. His hair was tied back, and he was dressed in black shorts and a dark red sleeveless shirt that let the tattoos on his upper arms be displayed in full. Dick had never seen them before and he stared at them until Roy moved, sipping from one of the mugs as he sat down at the island.

“So, how far are we running?”

Dick approached and shrugged. “I usually run for about an hour, so ten miles, give or take.”

Roy rolled his head to stretch his muscles, grimacing when his head was all the way over to his right. “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

Dick shook his head, smiling as he lifted the mug to his lips. “Considering your line of work, I think you’re trying to be polite.”

Roy gave him a playful look, which only added to Dick’s suspicion.

While Dick had no memory of his previous physical fitness levels, he hadn’t been idle since leaving the hospital and Gotham behind him. After the gruelling physical therapy to regain the use of his body, he had extended his exercise program and pushed himself further. He was above average by the standard of fitness most people expected, but well below for the lifestyle that Jason and Roy led.

Even so, he was both relieved and impressed that he was able to keep up with Roy, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the man was holding back for his benefit.

They ran laps around Halyard Square Park, passing the row of food trucks five times before Dick’s watch beeped and told them they’d hit the hour mark. They turned and headed back for the trucks, cooling down with a brisk walk and stopping by a bench to stretch out their tired muscles.

Roy went to one of the trucks, returning shortly and offering Dick one of the chilled water bottles. They sat quietly for a moment, both sipping from their bottles as Dick’s breathing and heartbeat slowed down to a regular rhythm.

Roy glanced at his watch and hummed in satisfaction, he held it out for Dick to see and he squinted at the display. Roy gave him a nudge with his shoulder, smiling. “Eleven point six three miles, not bad.”

Dick’s brows raised in surprise, he had gained a mile on his personal best and didn’t physically feel any worse for that achievement. Having a running partner made all the difference and was apparently even more beneficial when you ran with someone from the hero community. Dick chuckled. “Now I _know_ you slowed down for me. Your ‘not bad’ is my new, personal best.”

“You need to give yourself more credit,” Roy said, his expression soft. “It wasn’t all that long ago that you were relearning how to walk.”

“Don’t remind me,” Dick groaned, leaning back against the bench and staring up at the sky. “I lost count of how many times I fell on my ass. My balance was so screwed I had to be monitored to make sure I didn’t fall out of a _chair_.”

“And yet,” Roy said. “Here we are, months later, running over eleven miles in an hour.”

Dick appreciated the compliment, if only because Roy made the words seem effortless. It was a pleasant feeling, one that he had not really experienced from people who proclaimed to be close to him. Bruce hadn’t readily handed compliments to him at all, and the others – barring Alfred – all seemed to speak it because it was expected of them, lacking any kind of sincerity. It was almost as if praise were something that wasn’t rewarded often, or more like showing their emotions was a vulnerability that couldn’t be exposed. Again, with everything that was happening at the time, he took the words and accepted them, thinking that they meant it, but now it didn’t feel that way at all.

Jason seemed to be the type of person who wasn’t comfortable opening up, something he shared with Bruce, but in a way, he exposed himself more with his emotions than the other man. And last night he had showed how he felt about the situation with his display of aggression, something that Dick had believed was aimed at him, but Jason had soon realised and adjusted to help him be more at ease. His explanation had been vague, but to the point, helping Dick understand better. And while he didn’t reveal exactly what he had been through, he was quick to shut down when Dick had shown sympathy, which only confirmed for him that being emotionally constipated was a standard behaviour among the bats. But Jason was different in many ways, he was more accommodating of Dick’s situation, understanding his reasons and his frustrations. He didn’t push or force anything, and Dick _liked_ that, it’s what he had wanted from the start.

Roy was different, too. He wasn’t a part of the family, and it was clear by the little that he knew of him that he wasn’t the same as them. He smiled more, offered to give Dick information whenever he asked, when Bruce had been careful to pick and choose what to tell him. He didn’t hesitate to help as soon as he arrived, even collecting his cab and taking it back. He gave up on sleep to come running with Dick, which, granted, was to make sure no one caused him trouble, but he didn’t have to run with him. He could have just sat there and watched him, or hired a bike to follow him, anything would have worked better than the effort of running at his side. But he did that, without question.

Bruce and Barbara weren’t anything like them. They just wanted the other guy back.

Since Jason and Roy had turned up in Dick’s life, they hadn’t showed their feelings with Dick’s lack of memory, they hadn’t made any complaints that he should try to remember them, only telling him that they would be there either way. Even with the difference between them and the others, they were people that knew him, just like those back in Gotham, and the pain of his amnesia must hurt them when he looked at them as strangers. They had brushed off his concerns when he had asked, but he still felt uncomfortable with it.

Roy nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, you okay?”

Dick rolled his head to the side and smiled in reassurance. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how hard it must be for you,” Dick said, sitting up and staring at the bottle in his hands. “I know you said being alive was more important, but it’s gotta hurt every time you see me.”

Roy sighed, leaning forward to match Dick’s position. “I see my friend, Dickie, I see _you_. Memories or not, I can deal with that because you don’t need the added weight on your shoulders. It’s why you came here in the first place, right? Because of how much weight they were putting on you back home?”

_Richard can’t embrace something he can’t remember, Mr Wayne. You must allow for that._

_Unacceptable. There must be a way to restore his memory. If you can’t, I’ll find someone who will._

“Yeah,” Dick mumbled, pushing the memory away.

“Don’t think about it so much,” Roy said, and Dick twitched in surprise as an arm draped over his shoulders. “We’re here for _you_ , not to force you into anything that you don’t want.”

Dick huffed, relaxing under his arm. “You must be one hell of a friend, Roy.”

Roy tugged him closer, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Hell yeah, I am. And either you remember me, or you get to learn about me all over again, whichever way, you’re stuck with me.”

They picked up breakfast on the way back to the safehouse, with Jason’s being put aside for when he woke up. Dick assumed he’d spent the night out on the streets, doing the vigilante thing, especially since Blüdhaven didn’t have the usual hero to protect it anymore.

He sat with Roy at the island, fresh mugs of coffee in front of them both as Dick unwrapped the top half of his burrito. The TV was on for background noise, with the news station dutifully telling the waking citizens about current events.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fumbled around with his food to free up a hand.

The message was from the dispatcher, asking if he was well enough to cover an evening shift tonight. He looked up at Roy, turning his phone around and showing him the message. “Is this going to be a problem if I say yes?”

Dick’s argument about day shifts being safe didn’t apply here, and he knew that he would be working tonight even if Roy and Jason didn’t approve, but he felt it important to run it by them either way. He still had a job to do, and he liked it, even if other people thought it was a dead-end career. Barbara had been quick to tell him that it wasn’t much of a life for him, she criticized every part of it, but then, if she had actually stopped berating him long enough to look, she would have seen the progress an amnesiac had made in living independently. And that was not an easy thing to do when the world is a couple of decades ahead of him.

Roy squinted at the display and shrugged, nonchalant. “Shouldn’t be. We can shadow you at night, better than we could during the day.”

Dick nodded and sent a reply, letting them know he’ll work it.

Being as unfamiliar with the details of a vigilante lifestyle as he was, he was impressed with Roy’s casual reply, making it sound like an easy task to keep an eye on him. Dick wasn’t sure how they could manage that, especially if it meant watching him the entire shift and he _was_ deliberately putting a target on his back by going out at all.

He didn’t want to quit his job, and Jason had never suggested that he should do so. In fact, Jason hadn’t even made any effort to dissuade him from doing anything that he normally did. Maybe this was something that they were used to since it would be natural for them to look over their shoulder for potential threats every day. But where they were trained and prepared, Dick wasn’t in any way ready for whatever would come his way.

Putting himself in needless danger wasn’t something he wanted to do, and his job was important to him. The two were so opposed to each other that he had to wonder how this would work out long term for him.

Something was placed by his hand on the counter, and Dick looked up at Roy. He looked back down at the object, easily recognising an earpiece. He spoke as he picked it up and examined it. “First a tracker and now this?”

Roy chuckled at the playful complaint. “Would you prefer Jason riding shotgun?”

“No,” Dick laughed. “This’ll do.”

Roy curled up his lip in a half-smile and continued eating.

When Jason came out of the bedroom a few hours later, Dick had to wonder if he’d had enough sleep. He didn’t look like he had, and Roy rolled his eyes at the man when he grumbled his way to the coffee pot.

“You should get more sleep,” Roy said.

They sat at the island, opposite each other, with Roy casually stripping, cleaning, and reassembling a gun on the countertop. Dick watched him, fascinated with how easily Roy worked, barely having to look at what he was doing as he talked with Jason.

“Would if I could,” Jason replied, dropping heavily onto the stool by Dick’s side with a mug of coffee in hand.

“You’ve barely had five hours.”

“Yeah, well it’s your fault, anyway.” Jason muttered, sipping carefully at the coffee. “How the hell am I supposed to sleep when you’re yammering away eating breakfast at stupid o’clock?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Jaybird.” Roy replied, faking sympathy. “We bought you a burrito.”

“It better be a damn good burrito,” Jason said, watching Roy as he left the island to get him his food.

“Jaybird?” Dick said, amused.

Jason turned his attention to him, he studied Dick for a moment before replying. “Roy loves handing out nicknames.”

“I get the first part, but why a bird?” Dick looked between the two as Roy returned to the island and sat back down, handing Jason his wrapped breakfast. They both paused, sharing cautious looks between each other as if Dick had said something wrong. “What? What is it?”

Jason sighed and focused on his food, and Dick could see the trepidation that he tried to hide. “I wasn’t always Red Hood.”

Roy put the gun aside and started to pack away the cleaning equipment into the box on the edge of the countertop. “He used to go by Robin when he was younger.”

“Like the kid, Damian?” Dick said, growing concerned with the unease in the room.

“Yeah.” Jason sipped his coffee, hiding his mouth behind the mug. “But that was a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t look like you enjoy talking about it.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Jason grumbled, taking another bite. He looked at Dick as he chewed, and the tense air around him eased, his hard look softening. It was similar to last night, as if he was angry but tamping it down for Dick’s benefit. He shrugged, focusing back on his food. “It was fun for a while, then it went to shit.”

Dick took the hint and didn’t press for more.

It was quiet for a long while, leaving Dick feeling uncomfortable. Whatever had happened to Jason in the past was still a sore spot for him and it wasn’t lost on Dick that Jason was making a great deal of effort to keep his emotions in check.

Dick looked to Roy instead, wondering if he could read anything from him, but where he would usually be showing his expression, this time it was closed off from scrutiny. Which only went to show that Jason’s history was not open to further discussion, and probably wouldn’t ever come to light for Dick.

“Dick’s working tonight,” Roy said, breaking the silence.

Jason nodded as he chewed, swallowing down the mouthful before he spoke. “Okay. You give him an earpiece?”

“Yup,” Roy replied, nodding.

“How long is the shift?” Jason asked Dick.

“Usually eight till two.” Dick answered. He had expected some form of protest about the decision, or at least some warning, but Jason did neither. Maybe that would come later when he would be heading out.

By the time of his evening shift, both Jason and Roy had prepared themselves for a night out in Blüdhaven and were waiting at the door for him. He had seen Jason in his suit before, but he hadn’t really given it much thought at the time. He’d been too preoccupied with the idea that Jason had been there to take him back to Gotham, but looking at the two of them now, he could appreciate the intimidating aura that they held. He stared at them with wide eyes, fully seeing the two in their suits and being amazed at the difference between Jason and Roy, and Red Hood and…

“So, what’s your superhero name?” Dick said, looking at Roy.

Roy grinned. “Arsenal.”

“Why Arsenal?”

“Because that’s what he is,” Jason replied, checking his gun before he holstered it. “A walking arsenal.”

“Oh,” Dick said, still watching them in awe.

“Ready when you are,” Roy said, smirking at Dick for standing there and staring at them.

Dick huffed and walked toward the door, pushing the earpiece into his ear as he moved. It wasn’t his fault that he was amazed by them, he had been the same when Batman and Robin had dropped from above that time in the cave, although that had been short lived after the video was played in front of him.

Dick might not want to be Nightwing again, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the people that chose to risk their lives for strangers. And the two of them made a daunting sight, he could only imagine what the bad guys would think when they showed up to ruin their night.

They parted ways when Dick climbed into his cab, with Jason reminding him that any communications they shared over the airwaves must use their codenames, and that they wouldn’t be referring to him by his name either. He would simply be his initial, ‘D’. He wasn’t sure why it would matter if they used his full name, he was a civilian and not out to take down the bad guys, but he relented to the instruction anyway.

Dick kept a lookout for his shadows as he worked, unsurprisingly finding no sign of them. Jason had said that the two would take turns following him, both taking time out to patrol Blüdhaven, but they both kept him informed and let him know when they had him in their sights.

It was a strange sensation for him, to know that they were watching. He still couldn’t believe that they would dedicate so much time to him, and he had to wonder what he had done that had earned him this much consideration. How close had they been before? What possessed these two people to want to give him this much of their own time to watch out for him?

What would happen if his memories never return? They couldn’t do this indefinitely.

Dick was pulled from his thoughts when one of his rowdy passengers smacked his palm against the glass behind his head.

“Stop here, buddy.”

Dick rolled his eyes and pulled over by the packed bar, he stopped the meter and waited as they fumbled around between each other to cover the price of the fare. They were already drunk and the night was still young, but he knew the bar that they were about to enter and knew that they wouldn’t be denied further drinks.

One of the women in the back asked for his number, breathing her intoxicated breath over him as she fluttered her eyelids at him through the partition. He didn’t have a chance to reply as the other woman manhandled her friend out of the cab and offered a shy apology. As they walked away, the two whispered to each other, neither realising that it wasn’t much of a whisper, and discussed what they wouldn’t mind him doing to them. Dick sighed and pulled away, happy to be graced with a short period of silence.

“Oh man,” Roy said as he laughed down the line. “I’m impressed. I’d have punched someone by now.”

Dick snorted as he turned a corner. “You’d punch a girl for flirting?”

“Not the girls,” Roy clarified, although he knew that Dick was messing with him. “The rude guy, sure.”

The man had been abrupt and did consider Dick to be someone beneath him, and he wasn’t exactly polite during their journey, but that wasn’t unusual and Dick had grown a thick skin in the months of taking on this job. It didn’t bother him anymore and taking a few extra turns to ramp up the fare made up for it a little.

“I’m just a cabbie,” Dick shrugged, forgetting that Roy couldn’t see him. Or, maybe he could, who knew? “As far as anyone is concerned, it’s a deadbeat job that no one wants to do.”

“But you decided to do it,” Roy said, breathing a little heavier.

“I thought it would be a good way to relearn the city.” Dick stopped at the lights, tapping the wheel with his fingers. “Plus, job opportunities for someone like me aren’t exactly high in number.”

“Hold that thought,” Roy replied, and Dick frowned as he listened.

There were sounds of a scuffle, and Roy’s threatening words spoken completely differently from what Dick had heard from him before. He smirked, unsympathetic for the poor soul who had earned his attention.

The car behind hit their horn, startling Dick back into focus. He looked up and spotted the green light, pulling away and waving to the car that had prompted him.

He heard fists hitting flesh and someone was crying further away, then there was a cry of pain that was clearly from a man and much closer to Roy. It turned quiet, only the soft sobbing remained and then Roy’s voice returned, soft and gentle as he helped whoever had been in trouble.

“Everything okay?” Dick said. The woman sounded terrible, whatever had happened had shaken her badly. Roy didn’t reply, but Dick wasn’t bothered by that, he just listened as her sobs tapered off and she finally spoke to him.

Her own words eased some of the tension in Dick, hearing her tell Roy that she would be fine as soon as she got home. It didn’t comfort him completely, since the woman was clearly _not_ okay right now, but at least he knew that she was out of whatever danger she had been in.

“She’ll be okay,” Roy said, finally.

He breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing in his seat just as a black van veered in front of him, lurching to a stop at an angle. Dick slammed on the brakes and his car screeched to a stop inches from the side of the van.

Dick cursed, realising all too late what was going on. He shifted into reverse and turned to look behind him, but before he could commit to the manoeuvre a man stood behind his car and held up his hand, the streetlights glinting off the metal in his fist.

The delay was all the time they needed, and Dick froze as a gun was pressed to the back of his head.

“Out, now.”

Dick lifted his hands gingerly from the wheel, holding them up as his door was pulled open. Hands grabbed at him and wrenched him from the car, and he cursed when he hit the floor. His car started to move backward, still in gear and one of the men scrambled to stop it even as two picked him up and shook him around to remind him not to try anything. He resisted, trying to slip from their hold, but a hard punch to his stomach doubled him over. The air left his lungs in a single burst, leaving him wheezing through the pain as white spots sparked in his vision.

The _Niners_. They’d been targeting cabbies for over a month; Burl had warned him about them, but they usually operated near the Blue Line. With more and more attacks happening, most of the cab companies refused to work too close to it, and it looked like that was affecting business for the gang if they were so far from their usual turf.

That knowledge didn’t help him now, and Dick did his best to be as non-threatening as possible. The biggest man in their group wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him against his chest and walking him backward toward the van. He heard the side door sliding open and dread chilled his bones.

Realising that they weren’t just here for his cab, Dick started to struggle, kicking his legs out and dropping his weight to try and pull his captor off balance. He jabbed at the man with his elbows, earning a grunt but it only made things worse. The man rattled him around like a rag doll, tightening his grip on his neck and cutting off his air as he hefted him off the ground by the arm around his throat and bodily shoved him face first into the van panelling. Dick was wedged between the two and the gun was pressed to his temple.

“You’re not a fucking hero,” the man hissed, pressing him tighter to the van and choking him more. Dick gasped, desperate for air. “Don’t be a fucking hero.”

Dick would appreciate the irony if he weren’t currently scared and hoping Roy’s detour hadn’t put him too far away. He tried to push away from the van to relieve the weight on his chest and throat, ignoring the gun that pressed painfully against his head.

The man snarled and Dick’s lack of air was beginning to show, his body felt heavy as he was pulled away and tugged sideways, closer to the opening, further from his last chance of freedom.

There was a commotion behind them, and he was spun around again, only this time he was relieved by the view.

Jason stood by his cab, a crowbar in one hand and a gun in the other, it was pointed at them, or more accurately, at the guy behind him.

The other men laid unconscious; taken out in the brief time he had tried to fight off his attacker.

“Back off.” The gun clicked, primed to take his head off. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’d be next, pal.” Roy said from above. Dick couldn’t see him, but he had to be on the roof of the van. “And I _know_ you don’t want that.”

“Why are you even _here_?” The man snarled. “We’ve had it good with Nightwing being gone, why the _fuck_ are you in our city?”

Dick knew why, and it wasn’t to protect him from ordinary criminals. Being caught out like this just showed how screwed he’d be if someone bigger came for him.

Jason shrugged, nonchalant. “I think you just answered your own question, asshole.”

The man shifted his aim, pointing the gun at Jason with a growl.

Everything slowed down. The hold around his throat eased as the man’s finger tightened on the trigger and dread filled Dick to his core. He was going to shoot Jason.

Jason could die.

One minute Dick was locked in his hold, the next he was breathing heavy and looking down on the guy that had held him, now unconscious on the ground. Dick’s knuckles flared with pain and he raised them to see, they were reddened and split in several places.

Dick stepped back, breathing faster as he tried to figure out what had happened. He’d blacked out, for a moment at least, and with Jason and Roy still in the same places, he knew that timeframe was accurate. And his knuckles had dealt blows, which could only mean that he took the man down. He just didn’t remember doing it.

Jason’s masked eyes were wide, his brows raised high as he cautiously approached.

Dick looked between the felled man and his brother, movements jerking with shock and adrenaline. “I… I did that.”

“Yeah,” Jason said quietly. “You did.”

“He… uh, he was going to shoot you.” Dick waved down at the man, then scanned the ground for the gun. He spotted it several feet away, with the magazine unloaded and lying beside it.

“And you handled it,” Jason said as Roy landed next to them. “Pretty impressive.”

Dick huffed, and shook his head, bewildered. “I blacked out. I saw him pulling the trigger and I…”

“And you kicked his ass,” Roy grinned. He reached out and gripped Dick’s nape, giving him an encouraging shake. “You did good, Dickie. Nice job.”

Dick smiled in return, but he was uncomfortable with the praise.

He wasn’t unaccustomed to fighting, or drawing blood, the illegal boxing desensitised him from that. But he hadn’t had to deal with someone shoving a gun in his face before, not to mention the idea that these men had plans for him that would most likely have ended his life. His boxing didn’t teach him how to get out of a chokehold, or how to disarm someone with a loaded weapon that could go off at any moment.

And he hadn’t been prepared for the fear that hit him when someone he cared about was being threatened with death.

No, it was more than that. There was something deep inside him that he couldn’t define, but whatever it was, it urged him unconsciously into action. Jason had to live, which was an odd statement because _of_ course that made sense, but for Dick, it meant so much more and he couldn’t define it better than that.

“Hey,” Jason said, dipping his head down to catch Dick’s eye. “You okay?”

Dick nodded, swallowing to clear his tightened throat. “I’m fine.”

Jason didn’t look convinced. “You wanna call it a night?”

Dick’s job was being interrupted more than enough lately. He shook his head. “No, I’m going to finish my shift.”

Jason raised a brow. “After what just happened? You sure?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah, I need to. Really, I’m fine.”

Dick wasn’t fine, but if Jason didn’t press then he could convince himself that he was with a little time to think.

“The cops will be here soon,” Roy said as he released his hold of Dick’s neck to take one of his hands, examining the injuries. “There’s no witnesses, so if you want to get out of here, now’s the time.”

“What about them?” Dick said, gesturing with a nod to the scattered Niners around them.

“Leave it to me,” Roy replied, already walking away.

Dick turned to Jason. “I should talk to the police, they’ll need my statement.”

“Your statement won’t do much to help shut these guys down,” Jason said, herding Dick back to his car. “It’s best if you get clear before the cops arrive.”

“But-“

“Dickie, this is what we do.” Jason tapped his shoulder, urging him to get in his car. “And you don’t need be getting involved with this anymore than you already are.”

Dick relented and climbed in, surprised with the way Jason coddled him so easily into acquiescence. He spoke to him just as Roy had spoken to the woman earlier, treating a victim with gentleness and reassurance. It didn’t bother Dick, maybe because he was shaken from the whole ordeal and the reassurance was needed, or maybe because it was his brother and even if Dick didn’t know him that well, he guessed this was normal for them.

“You got a first aid kit?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah, in the trunk.”

Jason walked to the back and retrieved it, when he returned, he squatted down and quickly cleaned and dressed Dick’s hands. He tossed the kit onto the passenger seat and stood, closing the door. “If you’re adamant you’re finishing this shift, stop for coffee before you pick anyone else up. Take some time to breathe, okay?”

It was clear that Jason wasn’t happy that he wanted to continue working, and he was definitely shaken by what had happened. But having something to do would stop him dwelling on it, and it would be better than sitting around back at the safehouse with nothing to do _but_ think.

“Okay,” he replied.

Jason nodded, examining him with his eyes narrowed. “I’ll be tailing you, so I’ll know if you don’t.”

Dick smiled, this one genuine. “I promise.”

Jason stepped back and Dick started the car, shifting it into reverse to clear space between him and the van, then he pulled away, leaving the two men and the Niners behind.

* * *

Jason watched Dick drive away, crossing his arms and sighing heavily.

He shouldn’t be so caught up in thought, not when Roy was busy behind him and he should be keeping an eye on his brother. It didn’t help that he had watched Dick helplessly struggle against his captor, or the fear he could see when Dick had the gun to his head. He’d seen enough over the last couple of days to easily define between the Dick of now and the Dick from before, so he shouldn’t be so thrown off balance.

He was _still_ Dick. His mannerisms, the way he walked, the way he smiled or frowned, everything screamed the same vibes. But the memories, the history that defined him and made him who he was, was gone, and Jason had to adapt quickly to keep Dick from doing to him as he had done to the others.

It meant that he treated him differently, something that he had started to do without really thinking about it, and he had to remind himself that this Dick wasn’t used to him as his past self had been before. Instead, Jason treated him gentler, always cautious that one wrong move would spook him, and Dick would run away from the last, remaining vestiges of his old life.

“He’ll be okay,” Roy said, coming to stop by his side. “He’s shaken up, but he’ll get there.”

“His training kicked in,” Jason said, turning to Roy. “You saw that.”

Roy nodded. “Yeah, right when the guy was about to shoot you. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

Jason frowned. If Dick had reacted instinctively to the threat against Jason, maybe there was hope that his brother was still in there somewhere. And even if he wasn’t, his training certainly was, which meant that if he could convince Dick to do it, they could help him to protect himself better. Although Dick was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with Nightwing ever again, Jason couldn’t pass up the opportunity even if it pissed him off with the suggestion.

“We should talk to him about training,” Jason said, more to himself than to Roy.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Jason waved his arms, gesturing to the man on the ground that Dick had taken care of. “We _know_ he can do it.”

Roy glanced at the men, studying them to make sure they were all still out cold. Then he turned back to Jason and closed the gap, whispering harshly. “And run the risk of him thinking you’re trying to get Nightwing back? He’s starting to trust us, you’ll blow that out of the water if you so much as suggest it.”

“And you think this is any better?” Jason growled. “Right now he’s chum in shark infested waters, and we’re damn lucky they haven’t sniffed him out yet.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Roy hissed. “To make sure the sharks _don’t_ get him; and until he shows us otherwise, we keep doing what we’re doing.”

“But his training is still in there, if we can just-“

“Now you’re sounding like Bruce.” Roy glared at him. “And you and I both know how bad that would be right now.”

Jason closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, calming breath. He knew that Roy was right, they had come to Dick promising not to be like Bruce, but at the first sign that his brother was still in there, Jason had jumped at the chance. He wasn’t trying to force Dick back or getting rid of the man he is now; he really did want to help, and Dick’s training would go a long way to keeping him safer. But he couldn’t do that to him, he couldn’t break that trust that was still so very tentative.

Bruce had made things so much harder for them, if only he had just accepted Dick’s situation and run with it. Instead, he’d made a complete mess of it and made it almost impossible for them to repair. It had left Dick untrusting of anyone associated with the family, something that Jason and Roy had worked to show that they weren’t all about selfish intentions. Yet, here he was, doing the same damn thing.

Jason still couldn’t understand how Bruce would let it get to the point that Dick would leave, and he would let him. Bruce was the best person to know how much danger Dick would be in, it didn’t make sense to leave him out in the cold, no matter whose choice it had been. And knowing that Nightwing wasn’t on the streets was the biggest sign that Dick was down, it wouldn’t take much for anyone to come to the right conclusion. All it would take was one person coming to Blüdhaven and seeing for themselves exactly what position his brother was in for it to be dangerous.

Roy was right. The only thing they could do for now was be there for him, whatever came their way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :)
> 
> Another late chapter again, I'm really sorry. I think my earlier assumption of weekly updates was slightly optimistic, but i shall keep trying to meet that target as best I can.
> 
> In this chapter we have a little bit of plot, a little bit of story progression, and a lot of internal thoughts. I'm really sorry if it's not that good, making it longer would have made this update really late and I couldn't make it shorter. I hope you all like it. :)
> 
> And finally, a huge thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story, I can't tell you how much it makes me smile and how happy I feel with your comments and kudos. Thank you all so much. :)

Jason watched his brother from the shadows of the alley, sitting astride his bike and occasionally glancing around to check that they weren’t being monitored. He would have a much wider viewpoint from the roof, but Dick had chosen to sit at the back of the café and that would put him in a blind spot from up high. Jason had to sacrifice that option to keep one eye on him at all times.

The all-night café only had a few customers, which meant Dick had a choice of seating to pick from. The fact that he’d opted for the rear of the place, suggested he was deliberately trying to make it hard for rooftop observations. Jason figured, from the way Dick spoke of the bats, that he wasn’t happy to have _certain_ eyes on him and sitting away from the windows was his way of showing it. Doing it now, when he knew that Jason and Roy would be watching him, seemed to be a habitual response rather than a choice tonight.

It still left Jason with little choice but to narrow his window and keep him in sight, waiting for Roy to show up and cover the high ground.

Jason frowned with worry, wishing he could see inside Dick’s head right now.

He sat forward at the table, with his elbows resting on top of it and his coffee untouched and surrounded by his palms. He was deep in thought, most likely overthinking everything that had happened earlier that night, and Jason wondered if he should go and sit with him. He _could_ , and he didn’t think Dick would mind, but he still needed to get his _own_ head on straight after seeing Dick take down his attacker.

Without Roy, Jason would have made a mistake in his haste, something that would have screwed everything up and pushed Dick to feel the need to run. And while he accepted that decision and wouldn’t jeopardise the trust they had gained in the last couple of days, Jason hadn’t expected any recall of memory, which had thrown him out drastically.

Jason hadn’t lied to Dick. He said he would accept his brother with or without his memories, but that didn’t make it any less painful for him. And while he may want the old Dick back, it was out of his hands, and he wouldn’t leave Dick out in the cold because of something he had no control over. Besides, this Dick wasn’t so bad. He had a wariness about him around bats, and even if Jason was technically associated with them, Dick still found him easier to talk to than the others. A small part of him gloated at that accolade, because this was something that he could hang over Bruce’s head someday. He’d been right and Bruce had got it all so wrong for once, that was something he would really enjoy rubbing in his face whenever he could.

For now, though, he was too aware of the tentative nature of their reunion, or in Dick’s case, first meetings. He had to get used to the idea that Dick didn’t know him, which meant that any usual reaction from him had to be carefully contained until he knew how Dick would take it. And equally, Jason needed to learn more about this version of his brother, not only his habits and behaviour, but also being more aware of his brother’s numerous medical issues from the gunshot to the head.

He was getting to know a whole new person… wearing his brother’s face.

Movement above caught his eye, he glanced up and watched Roy jump between rooftops, landing on the building that currently contained Dick. Jason climbed off his bike and let himself be seen, then after a brief exchange of hand gestures, Jason switched radio frequencies to make sure that Dick wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation.

As it clicked to life, Jason ducked back into the shadows. “Did he talk?”

“Oh yeah,” Roy replied, sounding pleased with himself. “Sang like a bird.”

Jason smirked. Even with all the bravado, Jason knew that Dick’s attacker wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue for long.

“And?”

“He couldn’t give me a name, but they were definitely paid to target Dick, fifty percent up front.” There was a shuffling sound, and Jason couldn’t see him, but he knew he was hunkering down, putting himself out of sight.

“What were they planning to do with him?”

“Hold onto him until collection could be arranged and then they’d be paid the rest.” Roy answered, his voice now serious. “Their benefactor made sure that Dick would be out on the streets tonight, and sent a text on a burner phone with his general location about fifteen minutes before it went down.”

Jason breathed heavier, keeping his eye on Dick and doing his best to quell his anger. Someone was out there, watching Dick from a distance, maybe watching him for some time now and Dick was none the wiser to it. There weren’t many people who would know Dick in his civilian identity, and every one of them wouldn’t need subterfuge to get what they wanted with Dick in his current condition. If they hired a gang to do their dirty work, there had to be a reason for it, especially when they could do the job themselves and not leave a trace. 

Dick was easy pickings, the gang had no trouble getting him, and if a bigger player _were_ in town, Dick wouldn’t stand a chance. But it wasn’t a secret that Red Hood was here either, and that may have forced a pre-emptive approach, testing the waters before they made their move.

“Who called him in?”

“Text from his dispatcher,” Roy replied diligently. “We’ll need to look into that.”

“The cab company is legit, already checked,” Jason replied, relaxing slightly when Dick finally lifted the mug and took a sip. “And the staff.”

“Still, it wouldn’t be difficult to coerce people to comply.”

“True, but I don’t think that’s the case. Whoever this is, they’re aiming for subtlety, and it isn’t hard to manoeuvre a few chess pieces into place to get what they want without showing their hand.”

“I can think of a few people that fit that M.O.”

“Me too.”

Deathstroke came to mind, and considering the history between him and Dick, he was at the top of Jason’s list. He’d already checked for any contracts against his brother before he came to Blüdhaven, there were none, but that had only been precautionary. If Wilson was in town and interested in Dick, it wouldn’t be a paid visit.

The ageing owner of the café approached Dick’s table, a mug in one hand and a coffee jug in the other. His walk to the table was slow and stiff, long nights working his establishment no doubt, but the guy had determination to keep going. He sat down opposite Dick, filled the mug he had brought with him and slid it along the table to his brother, plucking the other one from his hands and putting it aside.

They exchanged words and gestures, both seemingly well acquainted with each other and Jason watched as the stranger lifted the frown from his brother’s face and encouraged a smile.

Dick really had made a life for himself here, meeting new people and being openly friendly. The relaxed nature of his interaction only showed how cautious he was with people from his past, how he was reserved with them but more at ease with the old man across from him now. Jason knew that it had a lot to do with these people seeing _him_ and not the brother that Jason remembered, which only irritated him more because this whole situation had been avoidable. Dick could have been interacting with his family like this, would maybe have considered the training that Jason had pushed for earlier with Roy. He wouldn’t have been so resistant to it all if they’d just reacted to his circumstances better.

And that poor handling also made it harder for Jason, because Dick didn’t want to be drawn back into his old life, which made protecting him more complicated.

Jason doubted that Dick had considered tonight’s events anything other than a random attack, without his memories, he wouldn’t examine every aspect like he used to. _If_ he had managed to get away on his own, and if Jason and Roy hadn’t come to Blüdhaven at all, the next attack would have raised Dick’s suspicions but then probably passed off as another coincidence. And then, anything after that would most likely be too late for him to do anything about.

With that little awareness to him, it was even more important that Jason be in the right headspace. He needed to keep focused and not allow Dick’s circumstances to distract him. And if Slade Wilson was in town, then he _definitely_ had to be ready.

“Arsenal, can you tail him the rest of his shift? I need to check some things out.”

“No problem.”

* * *

Dick was surprised by Jason’s absence when he’d finished his shift, and when he had asked Roy, he’d simply told him that he was working on something but wouldn’t elaborate further.

He had returned to the safehouse, washed up and headed for bed and when he’d woken up the next morning, Jason was still nowhere to be seen. When he had pressed Roy again, he shrugged it off and explained it was nothing he needed to worry about and that he would be back soon, but Dick wasn’t satisfied with that.

After last night, he couldn’t stop thinking about the whole thing. How he had been attacked and how frightening that had been, but to then unconsciously react when Jason had the gun directed at him, _that_ had created a whole new fear. He couldn’t put his finger on it, it was as if a sudden dread had taken ahold of him, with a visceral desperation to stop it, and then he had lost a short period of time.

He’d only known Jason for a few days, but he and Jason were brothers even without his memories. Had he reacted from some subconscious emotion, some feeling from his past? If he had, was that the proof he needed to confirm that some of his memories were still there?

With his blackout he had somehow freed himself, then disarmed and knocked out his attacker. He _could_ justify the takedown with his boxing, and he _had_ watched Roy cleaning his gun in detail, which could explain how he’d managed to unload the magazine. But Dick had fumbled around in a futile effort to save himself before then, and had been unsuccessful in his attempts, which could only be explained by the idea that he had reacted instinctively and utilised the training he had learned over the years but could no longer remember.

And if both the cause of the reaction and the unconscious takedown were dredged from his subconscious, what else was in there?

Could this be the first signs that his memory was returning?

And even if that was the case, the very idea of remembering that life terrified him. Last night had only proved that it was not something he could handle, and while he had no memory of getting shot in the head, the ramifications from that incident encouraged him to distance himself from it completely. It only solidified for him that he couldn’t _be_ that person again.

And what if the family found out? Would their absence in his life that he had now, suddenly change if they knew? Would they press even harder to get him to return to them?

He didn’t want that, and he didn’t want them to have a reason to try and get him to be another soldier in their war on crime.

He would’ve been willing to try with them if their motivations had been pure, but instead they had let him know in their individual ways that he wasn’t the one they wanted, and that meant that Dick didn’t have to stick around while that was the case.

But with this new development, would Jason now change how he interacted with him? Would he press to bring back the old him now that he had seen a glimmer of that person last night? Jason’s promise had been made when there was no sign of his memories returning, it was possible that he could alter his view and change his mind.

Dick didn’t want to consider it, if only because denial was easier to handle than the scenarios that he would think over if he let himself.

And Jason’s absence only let his mind wander, when what he really needed was to see for himself that nothing had changed with his brother.

Jason had kept his professionalism intact last night, treating Dick carefully and ensuring that he was alright. But after they had spoken to each other before he had driven away, he hadn’t seen Jason since. And every minute that passed, was another that Dick assumed the worst.

When Jason did return, it was just after midday. Roy was in the shower and with nothing better to do, Dick was flicking through channels on the TV. He looked up as the door opened and Jason stepped through with two pizzas boxes in hand. He pocketed his keys as he kicked the door closed with his foot, then made his way to the island.

Dick turned off the TV, getting up and walking over to him. “Takeout _again_?”

Jason stopped and gave him a playfully affronted look but couldn’t maintain it, he shook his head and chuckled as Dick smirked.

“I’d have cooked if I were here, but I wasn’t so takeout it is.”

“And why _weren’t_ you here?” Dick thought he’d asked it casually enough, but once he’d finished the question, it sounded accusatory.

Jason shrugged, seemingly unbothered and diverting his attention to the food. “I had stuff to do, nothing you need to worry about.”

“That’s what Roy said,” Dick grumbled, sitting down and leaning forward on his elbows. Jason slipped off his jacket and made his way over to the door to hang it, Dick decided to sneak a peek at the pizza, lifting the lid on the top one and inhaling the delicious aroma. “Is it a secret I’m not supposed to know about or something?”

Jason returned and pressed down on the box, silently ending Dick’s peeking. He sat down and leaned on the counter, pushing the pizzas further away to draw Dick’s attention. “We’re here to look out for you, and I’ve been doing exactly that.”

“And that’s why you’ve been gone so long?”

“Yeah,” Jason replied, nodding. “I needed to check a few things out.”

Dick nodded, watching him for a moment. “So, you weren’t staying away because of what happened last night?”

Jason frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Dick shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza boxes to avoid Jason’s eyes. “Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

They sat in silence for a long while, and with Dick keeping his attention away from Jason, he had no idea what the man could possibly be thinking.

Jason sucked in a breath, enough that Dick had to look at him and check his face for any signs of what he was expecting. Instead, Jason looked hurt and angry. “I’m not them, I’ve already told you that.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Jason grounded out. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Last night I saw you kick that guy’s ass, using training that we’ve both been taught before. And yes, seeing it made me hopeful, but that does _not_ mean I want you gone, you understand me?”

“You don’t quietly want the other guy back now?” Dick replied, wary even after hearing his words.

“I told you that didn’t matter to me either way, and I don’t want to keep repeating myself.” Jason stood and moved to the other side of the kitchen, rummaging in the cupboards for plates. As he came back to the island and placed them down, leaving them piled, he leaned his palms on the countertop. “I would love for my brother to remember me, Dickie, but I don’t get a say in that. And you’re not going to disappear if your memories come back, you’ll still be you.”

Dick relaxed a little, not completely, but enough that Jason could see. He didn’t want to think that his brother would end up just like the others, he’d grown to like the company and the comfort that being around these people offered. He hadn’t allowed anyone to draw too close since he had arrived here, only ever keeping friendships at a reasonable distance and making sure that they couldn’t get near his vulnerabilities. He’d been far too trusting of the family at first, opening himself up and allowing them to creep into his heart; even with the lack of memories, he’d simply trusted them on their word. But then it had all been shattered, and he had been hurt so badly that being that close to people would never be something that he would easily surrender to now.

Jason placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, his face a stern expression. “Nothing’s changed between us, alright?”

Dick nodded, remaining silent. Jason gave a reassuring smile and released him, turning back to the pizza and opening the boxes.

“Do I smell pizza?” Roy said as he came out of the bathroom.

Dick looked over to him; he had a towel over his head as he scrubbed the wetness away, sweatpants sitting low on his hips and his bare chest still glistened with water.

Dick frowned at the marks on his body as a spike of pain shot through his skull. Roy had scars, the same as Dick, and he narrowed in on the five bullet holes and single, vertical scar dead centre of his chest. The pain intensified but Dick couldn’t look away, he squinted as the light in the room started to hurt his eyes, lifting his hand up to press against his temple.

“Dick, you okay?”

Dick shook his head as Roy came closer, still staring at the old wounds on his body. Roy glanced down at himself, then back to Dick, seeming to realise something. He looked to Jason and then made it over to Dick even quicker.

Up close, the scars were even clearer, and Dick finally had to close his eyes as the pain became too much to bear.

Images flashed in quick succession, flittering so fast that he struggled to see them all.

There was a man with some kind of skull thing on his head, and Dick was _beating_ him. He was angry, positively _livid_ and he taunted the man to shoot him, he goaded him with words as he cracked the man’s ribs with his knee.

_Take a shot at me! Shoot me like Arsenal!_

More images assaulted him, one after the other, all moving too fast to focus on. There was a man in green, with blond hair, enraged and committed, focused on revenge. A younger man with him, trying to calm him down. The walls, a waiting room, other strange people around them.

_Then what are we waiting for?_

_Not a thing._

“Dick?”

Dick came back to himself, breathing heavily with his heart pounding in his chest. The blinding light diminished slowly, leaving him blinking it away and surprised by the wetness that tracked down his cheeks.

Somehow, he had ended up on the floor, and Roy crouched before him as Jason pinned him to his chest, his arms locked at his sides. They were leaning against the island, and the stool that he had been sitting on was now on its side to his left. He tipped his head back and onto Jason’s shoulder as he tried to control his breathing, but the memories that he had just witnessed left him on edge and overwhelmed with emotion.

“You were shot,” Dick croaked, eyes on Roy’s chest. His throat burned and he tried to swallow but it was too dry to help. He lifted his arm, hampered by Jason’s hold, and gestured to his head. “There was a guy… with a skull.”

Roy’s expression shifted, the worry still present but a hint of sadness now. “Brother Blood. He was the leader of a cult, and we were trying to shut him down.”

“And you got shot,” Dick whispered, glancing at his chest again. “Point blank. Hollow point bullets.”

“Yeah,” Roy replied, sliding from his crouch to sit on the ground.

Jason eased his grip but didn’t let go, and Dick was grateful for the grounding it gave him as his head spun with everything that bounced around in there.

Dick closed his eyes to bring the image back. “There was a man, he looked like the guy from the Justice League, Green Arrow? I’ve heard about him, seen them all on the news.”

“That’ll be him,” Roy replied softly. “He wasn’t happy, was he?”

Dick shook his head. “He was so mad, he looked like he wanted to kill someone.”

Dick’s head and neck throbbed with pain, and he groaned and tensed in Jason’s arms. The whole episode had left him drained and he needed to take his medication if he didn’t want to suffer from it later, but the pain was making him feel nauseous and that wouldn’t end well if he tried to move.

He had finally remembered something, and as happy as that should make him, it didn’t because it hadn’t been a pleasant event to remember. And the emotions that attached themselves to the visuals made it so much more difficult to assess, and without full context, they were brutal in their intensity.

He felt the rage as he remembered beating that man, the adrenaline from the fight, the guilt that his friend had been hurt, and the overpowering uncertainty. Roy was still critical when they had sought retribution, running into the fight as he fought against death on the operating table.

And Green Arrow had been there, joining in after learning of his son’s injuries… wait, his _son_? Green Arrow was Roy’s dad?

It shouldn’t really surprise him, considering that he and Jason were brothers and Batman was their supposed parent, although Dick didn’t want to think of him that way.

Dick was still learning about them both, but this revelation had caught him off guard. It didn’t come to him through the memories, just a subtle word popping into his head. The horrendous experience that he had just witnessed was continuing to drip feed small details into his mind, which didn’t give him much time to dwell on anything for long. Every new piece was there and gone, giving him no time to see it fully, and he had to wonder if they had disappeared completely or were just merely hidden in the background until something brought it to mind again.

“Dick? Here.”

Dick opened his eyes and looked from Roy to the glass in his hand. Jason released him fully and he sat forward and took it with trembling hands, sipping at first until his dry throat wasn’t so much like swallowing glass.

When he could finally swallow properly, Dick drank the rest and then stared at the glass as he held it in his lap with both hands.

Jason hadn’t spoken at all since he had come back to himself, and without seeing his face he didn’t know what he was thinking now. Dick looked to the floor at his left, where Jason’s palm rested against it. “You’re quiet.”

Jason’s thumb moved inward, his fingers arching up as if he were about to make a fist. He stalled and left them to relax again. “Are you alright?”

His avoidance of the question encouraged Dick to turn his body enough so that he could see his face. Jason looked exhausted and worried, and doing his best to mask both. “Are _you_?”

Jason sighed and slumped, finally moving as he ran a hand down his face. “I just watched you have some kind of seizure, Dick. I didn’t like it.”

“Sorry,” Dick mumbled, looking away and carefully manoeuvring himself to his knees.

That would explain the sudden exhaustion that Dick could feel, but he’d never had one that carried the emotional impact of repressed memories before.

“What the hell are you apologising for?” Jason snapped, making his own moves to rise. He was quicker at it, but he wasn’t struggling not to vomit like Dick was. “That wasn’t something you could control; you don’t say sorry for shit like that.”

“Jay,” Roy said, helping Dick to his feet. “Go get his meds.”

Dick appreciated Roy’s help, both physically and with Jason. His brother had been spooked and if Dick hadn’t already experienced it that time at the bar, he wouldn’t have understood his reaction now. Roy was gently redirecting him, giving him something else to think about and helping him to refocus, all while helping Dick and keeping him from falling over.

Dick didn’t know what it was like to see someone you care about in that condition, but he knew enough to feel sorry for Jason for it, and even if Jason didn’t think an apology was required, Dick felt it was.

He steadily moved toward the island stool, sitting alongside where his previous one had been before he’d clearly seized and fell off it. Roy kept a hand on him until he was sure Dick was stable on the stool, as Dick tried to settle his head that was still sorting through the things he had seen, as if his brain was trying to allocate the right time and place for them all.

He sighed and flopped forward on the countertop, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. The smell from the cooling pizzas lurched his stomach in unpleasant ways, and he blindly slid his hand out to push them further away.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder and he sat up as slowly as his nausea would allow, turning to look at Roy. The packet of crackers in his hand didn’t look any more appealing than the pizzas, but he had to eat something if he wanted to take his medication. Dick glanced once more at the scars on Roy’s body, nodding to them as he took the packet from his friend. “Of all the things I had to remember, it had to be something terrible that happened to you.”

Roy shrugged, nonchalant. “It happened a long time ago, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Dick turned away and focused on nibbling cautiously at a cracker. He doubted it didn’t bother him, something like that was impossible to forget, unless someone shoots you in the head, of course. But for Roy, this was a nightmare moment in his life, and Dick didn’t think for one minute that he wasn’t affected by it anymore. Dick had just experienced it in fractured pieces, and for him it was the first time, but the reminder for Roy couldn’t have been a welcome occurrence, and his casual dismissal only made him think that he was playing it down for Dick’s benefit right now.

Jason returned and placed his pill bottle on the counter near him, then picked up the pizzas and put them on the coffee table, dulling the odour enough that Dick wasn’t going to throw up imminently. He came back and sat opposite Dick, watching him intently and still stewing in whatever anger he had rumbling around in his head. Dick’s own silent examination of his brother gave him a chance to spot the concern, the worry of what he had just witnessed and Dick wondered if the conversation they had when he’d returned with the pizzas earlier would still hold true.

It was speculation before, with his memories involving his training unconsciously coming to the forefront during the attack last night, but now that he had experienced his first, true memory, Dick had to consider if this would tip the scales. The other bats would be all over him if they knew, but one memory wouldn’t change his perspective on them, and he knew they wouldn’t listen to him if they found out now.

“Nothing’s changed,” Jason said gently, interrupting Dick’s thoughts, and apparently reading them, too.

Dick didn’t realise he had stiffened up under Jason’s scrutiny, but the moment those words were spoken, he felt himself relax. He rubbed his temple as he smiled, letting Jason know that he understood, that he was relieved at the status quo.

The more Dick learned about his brother, the more confused it left him, and the impression that Jason was the black sheep of the family was, to Dick, wholly inaccurate. He had done more for him in these last few days than those back in Gotham had, and if his memories returning now had anything to do with it, it only made him think that Jason was a better influence for him than they were.

Dick hadn’t wanted to remember his life before, out of stubborn refusal to be what others wanted him to be, but that didn’t mean that he would ignore the memories if they came to him. And if Jason continued to support him so unconditionally, Dick would welcome more memories with open arms, at least then he’d have answers to the many questions that plagued him simply because his head was nothing but emptiness.

Dick was still worried, though. With a blank slate for a brain, he didn’t have to think about who he used to be, and that was something he had gotten used to. If his memories came back, he’d have to contend with the knowledge of his past life, living each moment like he had earlier, bringing up old pains for those around him as he sees each one with fresh eyes.

Roy hadn’t shown him any signs that he was uncomfortable, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Would Jason have the same reaction if Dick were to remember something from their shared past? Had anything traumatic ever happened to them?

Finally remembering something should have been a happy time, but now that Dick considered it, all it left him with was a fear that he wouldn’t like what he learned from here on out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. :)
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and time with this story, it's so nice of you all. :)
> 
> And thank you for your patience, I'm really sorry this one is very late. I had a prolonged bout of ill health, but I'm fit as a fiddle again. And it's back to throwing Dick through painful hoops while he tries to live his normal life. This chapter might be a little off, I started writing it when I was a little less poorly, so I apologise for any crappy parts that it might contain. 
> 
> Hope you all like it. :)

Dick groaned and pushed himself up from the bed, and with the room darkened by the closed blinds, it helped to keep his headache a manageable thudding pain. He’d been ushered away after his seizure and didn’t put up much of a fight, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he was far from rested. 

The few hours he had managed to get were hindered by nasty dreams, variations of the memories that he had recalled. They faded the longer he was awake and now he sat in bed, feeling utterly miserable. 

Having seen a memory for the first time, Dick was no clearer on his past. The memory was like a scene from a movie, useless without the rest of it to give further context. A cast of characters that were as unrelated to him as any stranger on the street, but the emotions attached to them were powerful and overwhelming. The only person that held any connection was Roy, and all he could draw on was the relationship that he had with the man, now. Even then, with the little that he did know, he couldn’t consciously relate to any of it fully. 

The small snippet of his life gave little away, still leaving Dick in limbo and that was frustrating. 

Dick climbed out of bed, scrubbing at his face as he headed for the door. He pushed it open, squinting at the light that hit him, barely noticing much else as the headache increased in pressure. He covered his eyes, walking blindly for a moment and occasionally peeking just to make sure he didn’t run into anything on his way to the couch. 

Someone grabbed his arm and startled him, but the hand didn’t let go, only tightening to make sure he didn’t fall as he jerked away in reaction. With his eyes narrowed against the light he looked to see who held him, and Jason’s concerned face was close enough to show the lines of worry on his brow. The lights dimmed and Dick looked to the door, seeing Roy lowering his arm after adjusting the light to something that Dick could manage. He smiled gratefully, letting Jason guide him the rest of the way to the couch.

As he sat down, Dick sighed at the ache in his bones and the exhaustion that weighed him down. He flopped back and rolled his head to look at Jason, who lowered himself onto the couch alongside him.

“You look like crap,” Jason said, still frowning.

“I _feel_ like crap,” Dick replied, reaching up to scrub the sleepiness from his face.

“Are you sure you should be up?” Roy added, coming closer and perching on the edge of the coffee table. “There’s still a couple of hours before dinner, maybe you should go back to bed.”

Dick shook his head, then regretted it instantly. “Bad dreams.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Roy offered.

“Can’t remember them.” Dick answered. No one replied, and he found the silence unnerving. He pushed himself upright, glanced between the two of them and tried to give them a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, just need a little time to adjust.”

Jason sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “From the seizure or the memories?”

“From all of it.” Dick said, rubbing his hands over his head. He flopped his arms back down, weighted with exhaustion, and sighed heavily. “It’s a lot to process, but it’s also… not.”

Roy glanced at Jason, a worried expression on his face, then he returned it to Dick. “Tell us what you need?”

“I don’t know,” Dick shrugged. “A distraction?”

Roy smiled, “I think we can manage that.”

Jason slapped his knee lightly as he stood. “Go freshen up, we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

  
  


Dick wanted a distraction, and he thought ‘going out for dinner’ would involve a restaurant, but instead he found himself perched on a rooftop overlooking the park with Chinese takeout in his lap. Red Hood and Arsenal sat either side of him, and he, once again, released his hold on his chopsticks to scratch at the mask on his face. 

When Jason had handed it to him back at the safehouse, Dick had been instantly on alert. Jason was quick to reassure him that it was merely to keep his identity safe should anyone spot them, no one needed to see Dick Grayson hanging out with vigilantes on rooftops. Dick reluctantly agreed, putting the mask on and wriggling his nose at the uncomfortable sensation. 

For added anonymity, Jason gave him one of his hoodies, pulling the hood up over his head as Dick straightened the enlarged garment over his shoulders. He thought he looked ridiculous, face half-covered, baggy clothes that made him look years younger, and his well-worn, _not_ artfully torn jeans helping that image. Beside Jason, whose own outfit defined built muscle mass and the weaponry that adorned him intended to frighten his opponents, Dick looked more like one of the young criminals that Jason would scare back to their mothers. 

It was temporary, Jason had assured, he wouldn’t be wearing the mask for long. They didn’t tell him what else they had planned, but the night was young and every minute that passed by, Dick’s physical condition improved. It seemed that was their intention, waiting it out until he was feeling better, picking a quiet and dark spot to be less of a strain on his aching head. 

When he was finished, Dick fished his meds from his pocket and downed two pills with water, tipping his head back sharply to help them down. He capped the bottle and stuffed them back into his pocket, squirming to adjust it so it didn’t dig into his hip so badly. He’d kept them in his jacket before, but he didn’t have it with him now, and he didn’t trust that he wouldn’t lose them again if he did. So, instead, he let them sit uncomfortably in his jeans pocket, satisfied that he could feel them all the time. 

Roy was the first to stand, plucking Dick’s empty container from his lap as he did. Jason handed his over as well, standing and offering a hand to Dick. 

“Well, you boys have fun,” Roy said, as Dick took Jason’s offer and was tugged to his feet. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“You’re leaving?” Dick said, looking in confusion between the two men. 

Roy smiled and thumbed over his shoulder. “I’m working. And you get to spend some quality brotherly bonding time together.”

Roy didn’t wait for any reply, he backed up to the edge of the rooftop, stuffing the empty boxes into the plastic bag as he did. Then he jumped over the ledge and disappeared from sight. 

With Roy gone, Dick turned a quizzical eye to Jason.

“Come on,” Jason said, smiling. He tipped his head toward the fire escape they had used to get up here, that also lead to his bike that was parked in the alley below. 

When they reached the bottom, Jason handed him Dick’s black leather jacket from a compartment on the bike, and the two of them changed into a more civilian look. Jason’s lower body was the same, but he had changed into a brown leather jacket after switching his bat branded black top for a plain black instead. 

Dick picked at the mask, grumbling under his breath and Jason came closer. He closed his eyes as Jason worked it free from his face and he scrubbed at his skin with his palms when it finally came off. 

“How the hell do you wear those things night after night?” Dick complained, scrunching up his face and wriggling his nose. “They’re so uncomfortable.”

Jason smirked, most likely enjoying how stupid he must have looked twisting his face up. “You get used to them. Come on.”

Jason climbed onto his bike, and Dick followed, holding onto the bars behind him as Jason pulled out of the alley and out to the streets. 

Fifteen minutes later Jason pulled up outside a bar. It didn’t look busy, but Sunday nights often weren’t, and this particular bar wasn’t visited by the younger generation. It wasn’t modern or trendy, it was run down and ageing, just the type of place that Dick would usually frequent. This one, however, wasn’t one he had been to before and he didn’t know if Jason knew that and picked it for that very purpose, or had chosen it at random. 

As they entered, several people turned to see the newcomers, most looked away straight after, but some followed their approach to the bar. Jason scanned the crowd, his scrutiny most likely a bat threat assessment thing, while Dick gave his own perusal with a more casual inspection. 

Jason checked with him before ordering two beers, and Dick settled in, sitting sideways at the bar and leaning on an elbow. 

There was a pool table near the front by the large window, with several people placing wagers on the players. The blond guy was being hustled, falling easily for the fake drunkenness of his opposition. Dick could read him, had played that game himself, and knew an expert when he saw one. 

“That guy’s night is about to get ruined,” Jason said, and Dick turned to see him smirking into his beer bottle and watching the inevitable unfolding. 

Dick picked his own up and took a sip, focusing back on the game. “Oldest trick in the book, and people still fall for it.”

“Great money-maker, though.”

Dick hummed. “If you pick the right mark.”

“Is that how you’ve been surviving here alone?” Jason replied, leaning back against the bar. “Illegal boxing and hustling pool.”

Dick nodded. “Before I gained a legitimate job, yeah.”

“You don’t do it anymore?”

“Not as much,” Dick replied, shrugging. “Sometimes after a blackout I’m back in the ring or at the table, but less than before. The hustling is a hard gig to quit, though.”

Jason snorted, gesturing to the blond with his bottle. “With guys like that, I can understand. That kind of smugness needs a kick up the ass.”

Dick chuckled, then watched as the blond missed his shot. “Here it comes.”

The hustler staggered around the table, wobbling and slurring his praise at his opponent’s skill. Then he leaned over the table, lined up his shot and the drunken look slipped from his face. 

It didn’t take long, the man clearing the table and the blond cursing and getting steadily more angry as he did. The hustler shrugged as he collected his money, even as the blond protested and threatened him, but eventually he knew he wouldn’t get his money back, cursing the hustler one more time before storming out of the bar. 

The onlookers exchanged money, some chuckling in victory, others grumbling in defeat. Eventually the table was abandoned and everyone returned to their tables. 

Dick and Jason turned on their seats to face the bar now that the show was over, both leaning against it, hunching over and sipping their beer. 

Dick could see Jason keeping an eye on the people behind him through the mirror ahead of them. “Any old enemies I need to worry about?”

“No,” Jason replied, giving Dick a lopsided smile. “You think I’d be this casual if there were?”

Dick looked at the reflection himself, seeing no one that he would consider athletic enough to moonlight as a supervillain. “Then stop watching everyone and relax. We’re supposed to be _bonding_ here.”

Jason shook his head in fond amusement, then gestured with his head to the vacant pool table. “Best of three?”

Dick grinned and stood, picking up his beer and heading for the table.

  
  


Three games in, they were one a piece and Dick was losing as Jason lined up for a shot. 

“Are you thinking best of five? Because you’re not recovering from this one.” Jason said, grinning and sinking another ball. 

“We’ll see,” Dick answered, doing his best to keep his poker face in place. He chalked his cue, rounding the table to walk behind him, trying his best to put him off the next shot. “You still have three left. One slip and this table is mine.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jason chuckled. Annoyingly, he didn’t miss. 

He lined up for the next shot and Dick needed a miracle to win now. The bartender inadvertently provided one, dropping a glass at the same time as Jason went to take his shot. Jason groaned and momentarily glared daggers at the bartender, relinquishing the table to Dick. 

He _had_ warned him. Now that Dick had the table, he cleared it all while smirking at Jason, winning two of the three games. “Best of five?” He taunted. 

“Setting yourself up for failure,” Jason shrugged, pointing the cue at Dick. “You just got lucky, it won’t happen again.” 

Dick chuckled and shook his head as he racked the balls. “Nobody likes a sore loser, Little Wing.” 

He swapped out the balls, putting them in order and waited for Jason to throw a reply back at him. When none came, he looked up and was surprised to see Jason staring with wide eyes at him. 

Jason rounded the table, lowering the cue to the table-top and stopping next to him. “What did you just say?” 

Dick frowned, confused. He opened his mouth, ready to question what had been so bad about his words, but the look on Jason’s face had him faltering. “Jason, what-“ 

“Say it again,” Jason said. 

Dick shrugged. “I said no one likes a sore loser.” 

Jason shook his head. “Not that. What did you call me? Do you remember?” 

Had he called him something? He didn’t think he did, just playful poking. But whatever it was, it was important to Jason if his reaction was anything to go by. He remembered telling Jason the sore loser comment, but anything else was a blank. 

“I don’t…” Dick said, stalling at a loss for words. He couldn’t recall what he had said, and he didn’t know how that would make Jason react. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” 

Jason’s dejection showed when his shoulders slumped, he nodded whether for acceptance of the disappointment or to reassure Dick everything was fine, he didn’t know. He cleared his throat, slapped Dick’s arm once and gestured with his head toward the restrooms. “I’ll uh… I’ll be right back.” 

“Sure,” Dick said softly, watching as Jason headed off. 

Dick moved to the tall table that held their drinks, sipping his beer and waiting for Jason to return. Whatever he had said had struck a nerve, something that was enough to send Jason away to hide the discomfort. He didn’t think that Jason would be gone long, not with his self-imposed task of looking out for Dick’s wellbeing, but if he needed the space, Dick would give him the time to work through it and wait patiently. 

As he stood there, Dick tried to recall what he had said, thinking back over the last few minutes of conversation before he’d spoken the name that wouldn’t come to mind. He thought about Jason, focusing on him and willed his brain to stop being obstinate and fill in the blank, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. Whatever he had said was gone, and Dick hoped that Jason would reveal the word to him when he came back.

Dick turned to lean on the table, scrubbing a hand over his head and sighing heavily. The evening had been nice, just the two of them talking and having a great time. Neither of them expected anything from the other, both just enjoying the downtime, and that had helped them to forget about the stress of the last few days. 

And now he had ruined it. 

Dick looked to the closed door, wondering what Jason was doing, hoping that whatever he had said wasn’t something bad that would be hurtful to him. It seemed to him that he was doing a lot of that lately, seeing his brother and his friend as strangers, bringing up bad memories for Roy and now, saying something that he couldn’t recall that clearly affected Jason in a difficult way. He didn’t want to hurt either of them, and he knew he couldn’t control what did and didn’t come to mind randomly, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

He turned back to the table, finished racking and put the rack on the mark, then he pulled free the triangle and picked up Jason’s cue. It killed a little time, distracting Dick from thinking too heavily. He chalked Jason’s cue, then moved to his own as Jason returned.

“Sorry about that,” Jason said, taking the cue as Dick held it out to him.

“No problem,” Dick replied, gentle yet cautious.

Jason’s expression was schooled, hidden behind a mask to ease Dick’s concerns, but it didn’t work. He had said something that brought his brother pain, and that only made Dick feel guilty.

They continued with their game, but their earlier joviality had dulled and neither had their heart in it anymore.

When they returned to the safehouse, Roy wasn’t there, and Dick didn’t expect him to be considering the night was still young and he was working. He wanted to give Jason an out, some time away from Dick that would give him more room to think without Dick there to distract him.

As Jason closed the door, Dick watched him slowly remove his jacket with a sigh. He stopped when he noticed Dick scrutinising him, looking perplexed. “What?”

“Did you want to go and find Roy? I’ll be okay on my own if you need some time.”

Jason stared at him, processing Dick’s words, then he hung up his coat and shook his head. “I’m not fragile, Dickie, I can handle you saying random shit.”

“Whatever I said, it looked like it hit a nerve.”

“You caught me by surprise, that’s all,” Jason said, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Dick’s shoulder. He guided him to the couch, nudging him in silent request to sit, then he sat beside him. Jason huffed with a soft smile. “You called me something I haven’t heard in years.”

“What did I say?”

Jason shook his head softly. “Probably better for you to remember it on your own.”

Dick tried again to bring it to the surface, closing his eyes and willing it to come back, but frustratingly, it was still blank.

“I don’t mean right now,” Jason said, and he opened his eyes. “Besides, it looks like your memories pop into your head when you’re not trying, and I don’t want you pushing it, not if it’s going to bring on another seizure.”

“I don’t think it will,” Dick offered.

“You don’t _know_ that, so let’s not risk it, okay?”

Dick didn’t want to stop trying, if only to shed light on Jason’s reaction, to know something that seemed important to him. But his brain wasn’t being cooperative and Jason wasn’t going to throw him a bone, which meant he had little choice but to wait. He settled back as Jason picked up the remote and flicked the TV on, and unlike Roy, Jason didn’t channel hop, choosing a sitcom that they could enjoy and try to salvage the evening with a little comedy.

Dick was dozing when he felt movement at his side, forcing him awake as Jason stood from the couch. He looked at him and sat up when the serious expression on Jason’s face told Dick something was wrong.

Jason didn’t keep him in the dark for long. “Roy needs backup.”

Dick stood then, suddenly worried. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” Jason replied quickly. “But there’s a risk of civilian casualties, so it’s better if we’re both there to deal with it.”

Dick watched Jason head for the door, doing his best to ignore the flutter of concern in his stomach.

Jason shrugged on his jacket. “Don’t open the door, don’t open the windows, stay inside, got it?”

Dick nodded. “Got it.”

“I won’t be long,” Jason continued, opening the door and stepping through.

As the door closed, Dick looked around the empty apartment, alone for the first time since Jason had appeared in his life.

He headed to the kitchen area, downing a glass of water after his mouth dried out during his short nap, leaving it on the counter as he moved back to the couch. He sat back down and focused on the TV, but with Jason and Roy out it left him thinking. How serious was the situation if Roy needed backup?

Dick couldn’t pretend to know what they were facing, even after seeing a glimpse of his memories and witnessing what a vigilante dealt with. Blüdhaven wasn’t the nicest of cities, but Dick didn’t think it had any cults lurking in the shadows. Mostly gangs like the _Niners_ , criminal wannabes that would never be as high up the chain to face off against superheroes.

Still, whoever they were up against, it was enough that Jason and Roy needed to work together, and Dick hoped no one got hurt in the crossfire.

And knowing they were out there, throwing themselves into danger, Dick’s nerves wouldn’t settle until they returned safely.

He hadn’t known them long, but he accepted that his past was intricately woven with theirs. He was learning more about them every day, and growing more attached as he did, a new bond that didn’t replace the old one, simply added to it… for them, at least. His was all new, with snippets of the past through conversation and his new memories, but mostly the new experiences and interactions that he shared with them over the last few days.

The more time he spent with them, the more he found his wariness ebbing, and his trust in them growing more and more.

And he couldn’t help the fear that ate at him now, brought about by his own circumstances that were the result of the lifestyle that Jason and Roy were still a part of. He knew that Roy had been close to death once before, had there been more occasions? Had Jason gone through something like it, too?

He didn’t want to imagine it; with his new connection to his brother, and the enjoyable evening that they had just shared, Dick hated thinking that he had suffered like Roy, or like himself. He hoped he had been spared such pain.

The time ticked by and Dick tried to distract himself, giving up on the TV when he couldn’t focus on it, and picking up his phone to play some of the free games he had downloaded months ago. He never really had a lot of time to play them, so the levels were ridiculously easy at first.

As he worked his way through a harder level, he heard a scratching noise at the window. He ignored it and continued with his game.

The scratching persisted and Dick glanced over, unable to see with the blinds closed. Jason had made it clear that he shouldn’t open the window, but he never said anything about the blinds, and it wouldn’t hurt to see what was making that sound.

Dick placed his phone on the coffee table, pushed to his feet and walked to the window, easing the blinds to either side and blinking in surprise at what he found. A scrawny black cat, sitting on the frame with scruffy fur and piercing, yellow eyes stared back at him in fright. It huddled in on itself, scared by the sudden movement of the blinds, and Dick couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. Mrs Rivington’s cats were greedy little bastards, never once letting him sleep long if they were hungry, but this one clearly didn’t have an owner to pester, judging by how skinny it looked.

Jason wouldn’t be happy with what he was about to do, but Dick hoped helping out a stray cat would spare him from too much of a reprimand. Besides, what harm could it be to open the window for a few minutes?

He flicked the lock slowly, careful not to spook the cat, then gently eased the window upward. The cat dropped down onto the fire escape, and Dick pushed the window all the way up, holding out his hand and leaning through, speaking softly. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy.”

The cat mewled, tentatively stepping closer and sniffing his fingers, Dick smiled and turned his palm slowly, reaching under and scratching at his jaw. That seemed to be the right thing to do, as the cat started to rub its body against his hand and purred. “See? I’m not so bad.”

The cat decided that he was suitable, jumping up beside him and through the window before Dick could duck back through. He watched it for a few minutes, smiling as it checked over the apartment. Then he headed for the refrigerator, and poured milk into a bowl. The cat didn’t hesitate, padding closer and lapping at the milk, letting Dick stroke it as it drank.

Dick’s phone vibrated on the table, and he left the cat to see who was calling him. Not many people had his number and it didn’t surprise him that the caller wasn’t in his address book.

He picked it up and swiped the screen, putting it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Jason said, his voice deep and slightly breathless.

“I’m fine,” Dick replied, confused. “Why?”

“Who opened the window?”

Dick glanced at the still open window, stepping closer and looking out. Was Jason nearby? “I did.”

“Why?”

“There was a cat,” Dick said, still checking for Jason on the rooftops. He spotted a figure, some distance away and watching, standing perfectly still with a moonlit backdrop. He couldn’t make them out, they were too far away, but the shape didn’t look like it was Jason or Roy.

“You opened the window for a _damn cat_?”

Dick jolted as glass broke behind him, he turned and groaned as the cat sat on the counter and glass littered the floor beneath it.

“What was that?”

“The cat,” Dick replied, slumping with the new clean up task ahead of him.

Jason growled, clearly upset with Dick’s decision making tonight. “Close and _lock_ the fucking window, and stop that cat from breaking any more of my shit.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick grumbled, turning back to the window and reaching up to draw it back down. He glanced to where he had seen the figure on the rooftop, but no one was there. Maybe it was Jason, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the long wait everyone, it's been a tough chapter to write and I've struggled to find the time. Thank you all for your patience, and a huge thank you for all of your lovely comments, and the kudos and everything, it's fantastic, thank you. :)
> 
> Should I give warning that this chapter might make people scream at their phones/tablets/screens? It might do... probably. Or it could be utterly terrible, who knows, heh.
> 
> I hope you like it?

By the time that Jason and Roy returned, it was late and Dick wasn’t looking forward to working a shift with so little sleep, but he chose to stay awake until they came back, nonetheless. As they entered the safehouse, the cat that had happily curled herself up on Dick’s lap, jumped down and scrambled to higher ground on top of the kitchen wall cabinets, watching with those big, yellow eyes as Roy headed toward her.

Jason scanned the room before venturing further inside, most likely looking for evidence of the cat’s antics and only moving once he was satisfied that no damage had been done. He held out a bag to Dick, withdrawing it when Dick reached out to take it. “When I tell you _not_ to open the window, _don’t_ open the window.”

Dick nodded with his hand still outstretched. “Got it.”

“Are you sure?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Because you said that last time and it didn’t take.”

Dick shrugged, lowering his arm. “I didn’t think it would be such a problem, but now I know it is.”

He didn’t know _why_ it was so critical. If it was a security thing, then it was strange to worry about _that_ and not that Dick was driving around Blüdhaven in his cab. Maybe Jason was more annoyed with the infraction than worried, upset that Dick had blatantly ignored his instructions.

He would be going to work in a few hours, and he had been going to work since he had met Jason, so he was at a loss as to why it was so important to keep a window shut. Still, Jason wasn’t biting his head off about it, so it appeared to be more precautionary than anything else, it _was_ a trait of the bats to always be ready for anything, after all.

Jason handed over the bag, slumping down on the couch alongside him and turning to watch Roy try to coax the cat down from the cupboards.

Dick looked in the bag, smiling when he noticed the cans of cat food inside. He pulled out one can, taking it over to the counter and emptying it into a bowl. The cat was instantly interested, ignoring Roy, leaping down and focusing on her dinner as Dick lowered the bowl to the floor. He stroked her as she tucked into the food, and she was so engrossed in her meal that she didn’t mind Roy getting close and taking over the gentle petting along her back.

“Did you name her yet?” Roy said, completely distracted.

“No,” Dick replied, standing up and getting rid of the can. “I wasn’t sure if she’d be staying.”

“Did you want her to stay?”

“Not my safehouse.”

“She can stay,” Jason sighed. “But any mess is your job, not mine.”

Dick couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, more at the display of softness from his brother than anything else. For a man that had grumbled about the cat over the phone, he had no problem bringing food back for her, or quickly deciding she could stay.

The next morning, Dick was not rested, and from the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t slept much either. His brother had taken his turn on the couch, leaving Roy to sleep soundly in the bedroom.

Dick poured himself a coffee, holding out his hand for the cat to run beneath as she strolled along the counter, he tipped his head in Jason’s direction. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“I will later.” Jason replied, scrubbing at his face to keep himself awake. “You didn’t have to stay up last night, you know.”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t think I could’ve slept until you both got back anyway, not with everything that happened.”

“I told you it wasn’t that serious,” Jason countered, slouching back into the couch. That position was a sure way of drifting off, Dick knew from experience. “And I don’t have to work today, whereas you do.”

“I’ll manage,” Dick said as the cat meowed for her breakfast. Dick obliged her.

“I’m sure you will,” Jason responded, yawning. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

Dick noticed that Jason’s eyes had slipped closed, his breathing evening out to something close to sleep. He wasn’t there yet, and Dick didn’t want to rudely wake him with any noise. The cat wasn’t as considerate, finishing her meal and joining Jason on the couch, curling up beside him. The movement went unnoticed and Dick left them both where they were.

He unlocked his cab and climbed inside, rolling his neck to motivate himself for the day ahead. As he put the key into the ignition and turned it, he had to squint his eyes shut tight at the blinding flash of white that hit him, gritting his teeth at the sharp stab of pain in his head. He pulled his hand away from the key to press it against his eye, holding his breath through the pain.

He was on a rooftop, with Jason crouched beside him in the old Red Hood suit, with his brother brazenly wearing nothing over his face to hide his identity. The helmet was by his side, and he held a gun in one hand between his knees, as Jason talked to him, smiling.

_Come on Grayson, we’re tracking down the Madmen, we could start a poetry slam and still bust these dorks._

_Fair point._

_So, spill._

Dick could feel everything, it was hard to organise it all, there were so many emotions in this one flash of memory. He was worried, seeking guidance, but he didn’t know what for. Then there was relief, comfort from a familiar presence that helped to calm him. Pleasure from the conversation, enjoying the company. Gratitude for Jason’s assistance, for being there when he needed it.

The image flickered away, gone along with the pain, and Dick sagged in his seat. He let out the breath he had been holding in, and the resulting lack of oxygen had him panting.

The overwhelming emotions were draining, and he cursed on an exhale, already too exhausted from lack of sleep to handle more than this. He could go back upstairs and call in sick, but he didn’t want to lose anymore of his time at work because of his misfiring brain. And he wanted to question Jason about the brief imagery that he just saw, but his brother was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him now for something that could wait until after he’d finished work.

With a resigned sigh, Dick steeled himself and started the car, hoping that his shift flew by today.

Dick stopped for lunch a little earlier than he usually would, the lack of sleep made him cranky and he wasn’t sure he would be able to deal with another passenger without snapping. Monday mornings were always the worst, with traffic snarled and plenty of pedestrians that ran the gauntlet of road crossings without checking first. It was always difficult, but made far more irritable with Dick’s current tiredness today.

He would usually stop at Louisa’s, but after Barbara had showed up there, he opted for a café that he hadn’t visited before. It meant heading further away from the more lucrative routes of his trade, but it also changed his routine to keep bats from popping up everywhere he went. Well, bats that he didn’t want to see, anyway.

He pushed open the door, stepping inside to a dimly lit room, large but lacking in natural light. The overhead lighting couldn’t compensate and gave it a secluded feel, something that Dick was more than happy with.

The counter sat to the left, with an open area to see the kitchen behind, the rectangular shape left the room darker at the rear, and that was where Dick headed. He sat on one of the bench seats, picking up the menu as the waitress came closer, he ordered a turkey sandwich and coffee, thanked her and settled back in his seat.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he reached for it, checking the screen. Of the few numbers he did have stored in it – now including Jason’s – he frowned at the unexpected call as he answered.

“Hey, Doctor Haas.”

“Richard, I’m sorry to bother you,” Doctor Haas said with a soft voice. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he replied, smiling even though she couldn’t see it. “Keeping busy.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” she said. Dick looked up as the waitress returned with his lunch, leaning back and thanking her silently as she placed it down. “I’m calling because I need to bring your appointment forward, I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been asked to stand in for a last-minute cancellation at a medical conference next week, and I was hoping you’d be available to come in on Wednesday?”

“I think I can manage that,” Dick agreed.

“That’s great, thank you.” He heard papers rustling, then she continued. “Would you be alright coming in at twelve? I wouldn’t want to interrupt your job too much, and I’ll treat you to lunch in the cafeteria here after.”

“Fine with me,” he replied, adding sugar to his coffee and stirring it. “I’ll need to let the boss know, but I doubt he’d have a problem with it.”

“Wonderful.” Her enthusiasm wasn’t unusual, after all, Doctor Haas had been there for Dick when everyone else hadn’t given him the chance. She had been happy with his progress, encouraging of his independence, and when he had left Gotham, it was her that enabled that to be as discreet as possible. She only wanted the best for her patient, something that Bruce hadn’t been willing to give.

“Then I’ll see you on Wednesday,” she continued. “Take care of yourself, Richard.”

“You too.”

After hanging up and replacing the phone in his pocket, he examined his sandwich before picking it up and taking a bite.

As much as he liked his doctor, Dick knew there were things that he would have to omit when he visited her. He couldn’t tell her that he misplaced his pills, or that he had started to remember snippets of his past, doing so would only subject him to more tests than he currently endured and he didn’t want it noted on his medical file that his memory seemed to be returning. If Bruce found out about it, he would come, and Dick didn’t expect the man to give him the freedom that he had now. If anything, Bruce and Barbara would be bothering him even more, like dogs with a bone.

And since Bruce was someone that had to have all the information, Dick’s medical file would be constantly under the man’s scrutiny.

So, no. Doctor Haas couldn’t be told any of that, not if Dick wanted to keep the status quo.

Someone approached the table and he looked up, then he opened his mouth to protest as the creepy one-eyed man sat down opposite him.

“Nice to see you again, Grayson.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Dick groaned, rolling his eyes. “What do _you_ want?”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t have to be, I’m on my break.” Dick leaned back, checking the room for any other unwanted guests. “What is it with people interrupting me during lunch?”

Creepy guy chuckled, leaning forward on his elbows. “Harder for you to run away, more time to chat.”

“I’m not in the mood for conversation.” Dick abandoned his sandwich and crossed his arms.

The man ignored him. “Couldn’t help but overhear, got a call from your doctor?”

“You were listening?” Dick stared, wide-eyed. Another thing to add to the creepy factor. “You never heard of privacy?”

“You’re in a café, kid.” He waved his arms to emphasise his point. “You want private, go home.”

Dick grumbled under his breath, resuming eating his sandwich. The waitress came over, and Dick sat stunned as the man ordered a coffee, as if everything were perfectly normal and he was welcome at Dick’s table. When she left, he finished his mouthful and spoke. “There’s plenty of free tables, why don’t you go sit somewhere else?”

The man shrugged. “I’m fine right here, thanks.”

Dick bristled at his laid-back approach, _and_ that the man thought it was acceptable to ignore his rejection. He had no idea who he was, but his blatant disregard of Dick’s justified annoyance only proved that he wasn’t threatened by Dick, his whole aura screamed confidence and control. That confidence set alarm bells off in Dick’s head, warning him to be cautious, he knew that this man found him amusing and harmless, and that meant the man himself was anything but.

“What are you, some kind of stalker?” Dick said, doing his best to keep his tension down.

“You don’t believe in coincidence?”

Dick scoffed. “You just happen to be here the same time I am. Bumping into the same person in a city this size, twice within a week, is _not_ a coincidence.”

“But not an impossibility either,” the man replied, thanking the waitress as she returned with his coffee. “And you’re a cab driver. The very definition of your job means you’re more likely to run into the same person more often than most.”

“Doesn’t mean I _want_ to.”

The man chuckled.

Dick scowled at him. “Even if this is coincidental, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want you at my table.”

“Careful. The weight of that chip on your shoulder is going to hurt your spine.”

“If you don’t like it, sit somewhere else.”

“Like I said, I’m fine here.”

Dick finished the last bite of his sandwich, reaching into his pocket for his bottle as he chewed.

“Wonderful discussion,” Dick muttered, dropping two pills into his palm. He placed the bottle on the table-top and picked up his coffee. “Still think you’re a stalker.”

As he popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down, the man picked up his bottle, examining the label.

“Hey!”

“Anticonvulsants,” he mused, drawing back as Dick reached for his meds, keeping them from him. “And not from the doctor you were just talking to.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” Dick hissed, reaching for his medication again, and successfully getting it back this time.

The man eyed his scar, it made Dick feel uncomfortable, and he turned his head away to remove it from direct view.

“Be careful who you trust, kid.”

“I sure as hell don’t trust you,” Dick retorted, shoving his medication safely into his pocket.

“And you shouldn’t, you have no idea who I am.” He leaned forward, and Dick leaned back, desperate to keep space between them. “But as you are right now, it’s dangerous for you to trust _anyone_. Strangers, friends, _family_. How would you know friend from foe?”

Dick froze with the words, looking at the man. He didn’t move, just watched Dick with a blank expression, giving nothing away, and Dick suddenly didn’t feel very safe anymore.

It was time to leave.

He finished the rest of his coffee, standing and walking to the counter, paying quickly, then headed for the door. Before he left, he turned to check the table, and a shiver ran down his spine as the man sat and watched him the entire time.

* * *

Jason relaxed back on the couch, smiling in amusement as the cat chased the small dot from his laser light around the floor. It kept her from scratching at the couch and used up time as Roy built a scratching post for her. He glanced at the screen of his laptop, watching as Dick’s tracker had him on the move again, having stopped for a short time at a café.

“You don’t need to keep watching his tracker,” Roy said, his attention remaining on the post. “You bugged his car, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. You argued against the idea,” Jason complained, moving the pointer to Roy’s backside. The cat jumped up, claws out and Roy yelped as he jerked forward.

“Asshole,” Roy grumbled as the cat scampered away and Jason snickered. “If he finds out, he’s not going to be happy.”

“He won’t find out. But if he does, we’ll deal with it then.”

“It won’t change the fallout,” Roy countered. “You promised you wouldn’t do that to him.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Jason wouldn’t have to take the risk at all if there wasn’t evidence to prove that Dick was being targeted, and he might have avoided the action if Dick had listened to him and left the window closed. As it was, his brother needed the extra cover, whether he liked it or not, and he would have to know where to look for the bug in the first place, which was unlikely to happen. The old Dick Grayson would know where to look, but as he was now, it was a safe bet that he’d never find it.

Roy sighed and put down his tools for a moment, sitting on the floor and watching Jason with a frown. “It’s a Bruce move, you know that, right?”

“Don’t compare me to him,” Jason grumbled, irked by the comparison.

Roy shrugged, picking up his tools and returning to the post. “Just saying, if you’re going to do this, maybe try to learn from his mistakes.”

It _was_ a Bruce thing to do, and while that grated on him that he had to resort to methods that would compare him to the man and upset Dick if he discovered it, Jason had promised not to disrupt Dick’s life, and if that meant a little subterfuge, then so be it.

Dick’s dislike for Bruce right now was something that would make things harder, and since sneaking around was the norm for the family and Dick couldn’t remember that, it would only cause friction between them if he found out. It was a security measure, plain and simple, and Jason hated that he betrayed Dick’s trust this way. Dick wouldn’t understand that it was necessary, he would only see it as a breach of his privacy, but it was this or Dick gave up his job so that they could watch him full time. Jason didn’t think his brother would be willing to do that without an explanation, and that wasn’t possible, not until they knew more.

Jason’s phone vibrated and he reached for it, putting the pointer aside much to the cat’s disappointment. The message was from Tim, and not a good one.

_B isn’t happy, you may have a visitor tonight._

Jason tapped back a reply. _Details?_

_He wants to know what you’re doing in Blüd, asked me, I told him I didn’t know._

Which was true, since Tim didn’t know why he was here, but the kid was smart enough to figure it out if given more information. It was why Jason didn’t include him in the first place, plausible deniability, and Tim being away from Gotham helped keep him out of the loop without much effort on Jason’s part to keep up the ruse.

He doubted Tim would make things worse for him if he did figure it out, he had the same reservations about Dick being left alone as Jason did, only he listened to Bruce’s suggestion to stay clear, trusting him to know what was the right thing to do.

Jason knew better, and he’d proven his point by simply being here and being given the chance to show Dick he could trust him. All of Bruce’s bull about giving Dick his isolation came undone, with just the short amount of time that he and Dick had spent together. But it was still tentative, and it could easily fracture if it wasn’t handled right.

If Bruce did come, Jason knew one thing for certain, he couldn’t risk him finding out that Dick was living here, if he did, then all hell was sure to break loose.

The chances of Dick running from them all would be high, especially if Bruce found out he was remembering things now. If he showed up, whatever trust Jason had earned from Dick would shatter, and his brother won’t stick around to wait for an explanation. He typed again. _Thanks for the head’s up._

_No problem._

Jason put his phone away, checking the tracker since the only sound he could hear from his earpiece is the radio of Dick’s cab in the background. “I could be out for a while tonight.”

“Expecting company?” Roy said, drawing his attention. He watched Jason with a wary expression, no doubt picking up on the change in his mood.

“Yup.”

Roy nodded, turning back to his work. “I’ll keep Dick occupied.”

“And I’ll play keep away with dear ol’ dad.”

* * *

Dick walked through the door of the apartment, exhausted both mentally and physically. Today had been tough enough without the run in with the creepy guy, and that name was more appropriate each time he met the man. His gut told him to be careful around him, but to then be warned by him about trusting anyone in his life had Dick questioning his circumstances now.

That man knew him, he was sure of that, he was someone from Dick’s past, but his amnesia kept that information from him. Was he a good guy or a bad guy? Dick hadn’t stopped to ask, and maybe he should’ve, but the priority had been to get the hell out of there when his anxiety spiked.

And what did he mean that he should be careful about who to trust? How much did he know about Dick’s current situation? All that bull about running into each other being a coincidence, to then let slip something like that. Did he think that Dick wouldn’t figure out that he was someone he had known before?

Maybe he did plan to reveal himself, and Dick had left before he could do that. But why not just say it? Why did he need to make it appear as though they had run into each other randomly?

And why warn him without giving him details? Why this game of cryptic comments and subtle interactions that gave little away?

Who does things like that?

The bats do. And the bats fight crime, which could mean the man is a vigilante.

Dick hadn’t seen him before, Bruce hadn’t shown him any photos of him, so it stood to reason that he wasn’t a part of the family. But then, he hadn’t been all that happy to include Jason in the photo albums either, so it’s possible that he could be related to them somehow.

And the air about him, similar to Bruce, controlled and calm on the outside, giving off the impression that not much could get past them unseen, a sure fit for the lifestyle of highly trained, battle ready soldiers. He reminded Dick of Bruce in many ways, but where Bruce seldom cracked a smile, this man did, even enjoying Dick’s struggles. But he hadn’t hurt him, only creeped him out, and now he had to deal with the warning that he gave about the people around him.

That wasn’t a long list, restricted to new acquaintances in Blüdhaven, the type most certainly not scheming behind his back, and the two men he currently lived with. The rest of the family weren’t in his life, encouraged to keep away from him by his rejections, so he couldn’t have meant them.

And Dick didn’t think that Jason and Roy needed to be questioned at all.

Dick’s faith in Jason and Roy had grown over the time they had spent together, and he didn’t feel that his life was about to be turned upside down through betrayal. Jason had been passionate about his reasons for helping Dick, citing a similar experience in his own life. It was the one thing that helped solidify Dick’s belief that Jason wasn’t there to convince him to return to Gotham.

Dick didn’t want to think that Jason was planning against him, not with what he knew of him. He wasn’t the type to bow down when someone told him to, which made it harder to think that Bruce was the puppet master pulling strings in some grand scheme to lure him back.

Maybe the man hadn’t been talking about Jason and Roy at all, he could have been talking about the doctor that had replaced his lost medication. He _had_ given the warning immediately after checking the label on his bottle.

This doctor was someone his brother vouched for, the person that had apparently treated him when he was Nightwing, and with that it would seem unlikely that she was out to hurt him now. Even so, he hadn’t met her, hadn’t been able to gauge her and yet he’d blindly trusted Jason’s recommendation in a panic with his lost medication.

But if he did mean her, then what did that mean for the pills that he had been taking? Were they tainted in some way? Should he stop taking them?

His rescheduled appointment with Doctor Haas would solve that problem, she would issue him a new prescription and he could test out his theory. At least then, he would have some definitive answers.

Dick sighed.

That man had really caused problems, he might have warned him about trusting the wrong people, but Dick liked the life he was living right now, and it was because of the two men that he had allowed in that made that happiness a reality. If that doctor _was_ spiking his meds, what would he do?

“You okay over there?”

Dick looked up, mentally shaking himself from the distracting roll of his thoughts and smiled at Roy. “Sorry, long day.”

Roy nodded, resuming his chopping. Whatever was for dinner, it smelled delicious, and Dick’s stomach growled in anticipation.

Dick squatted down, petting the cat as she came closer and rubbed against his leg. “Where’s Jason?”

“Getting some shut eye,” Roy replied, nodding toward the closed bedroom door. “He’s patrolling earlier tonight.”

“Expecting trouble?”

“No,” Roy said, checking the oven through the glass. “Just mixing it up a little. Can’t have all the bad guys thinking we work a set shift.”

Dick hummed, scooping the cat up and tucking her under his arm. He scratched at her ear, earning a contended purr for the effort.

Roy watched him for a moment, then turned back to the counter. “Thought of a name for her yet?”

“Not yet,” Dick said, sitting down on the couch. He caught sight of a scratching post near the arm, lowering the cat to the floor. “You bought her a scratching post?”

“ _Made_ ,” Roy corrected. “You won’t find one like that in any store.”

It certainly looked unique, with three different levels, the top being half the size of the bottom two. There was a tubular hideaway with a cat sized hole on the bottom, acting as one of the two supports for the middle shelf. Spaced out around the top and middle platforms were soft balls, dangling from thin rope.

“Impressive,” Dick nodded, watching as the cat slipped into the hideaway.

“Thank you,” Roy replied, pleased with the praise. “Not that Jason’s crappy couch needs saving, but it should keep her entertained.”

“She seems to like it,” Dick said, leaving the cat to play. He stood and walked toward the kitchen, leaning his elbows on the island. “You’re a man of many talents, Roy.”

“I certainly am,” Roy said with a casual tip of his head.

Dick huffed. “And humble too.”

Roy chuckled, turning back to his work.

Dick pulled out a stool and sat down, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

Should he ask about the creepy guy? If he was someone from Dick’s past, then it was a safe bet that Roy would know who he was. But the man hadn’t made any efforts to meet Jason and Roy, so maybe he didn’t want them to know he was here. He should tell them, but he could cause problems if he did that, since the man obviously wanted to stay out of sight.

He needed time to think about it, to decide if it was the right thing to do. Maybe tomorrow.

For now, he knew there was one thing he could ask about.

“Who are the Madmen?”

“Why’d you ask?” Roy replied, keeping his back to him.

“Just something I saw this morning,” Dick shrugged, even though Roy couldn’t see him. “I had a flash of a memory, one with Jason. We were on a rooftop, I think we were waiting to make a move on some people called Madmen.”

“Must have been a slow night,” Roy said, and the tone suggested that these _Madmen_ weren’t all that bothersome. “They’re a gang, and not a very good one.”

“Jason didn’t seem all that worried about them.”

Roy chuckled. “I doubt he would, considering what he usually involves himself with.”

Dick hummed, not able to enjoy the joviality when he was out of the loop thanks to his amnesia.

Roy looked over his shoulder. “So, you remembered a little about your brother. That’s good, right?”

Dick nodded. “It wasn’t much, just a moment. But there were a lot of emotions attached to it. I think I was asking him for advice.”

Roy turned back to his cooking. “Can’t help you there, buddy. Best to ask the man in question for an answer to that one.”

* * *

When Jason woke up in his comfy bed, he groaned at the ache in his hip, hating the couch for the few hours he had spent on it and contemplating getting a replacement. Now that Dick had adopted a cat, getting a new one wasn’t as appealing, especially when said cat hadn’t waited long before digging her claws into the current one.

He pushed himself out of bed and to the door, opening it and being hit with the aroma of Roy’s cooking. That was a welcome smell to wake to, and Jason hummed as he made his way into the open area and toward the kitchen. “Smells good.”

“Perfect timing.” Roy gestured to the island and Jason pulled out a stool, sitting alongside Dick who had the cat curled in his lap. When Jason had settled, the cat transferred over to him, nuzzling at his torso with a rumbling satisfaction. He stroked along her back and thanked Roy for the coffee that he placed in front of him.

“While I’m plating up,” Roy said, laying three plates on the counter. “Dick remembered something else.”

Jason turned a surprised look to Dick. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, and Jason noticed how tired Dick looked. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be asleep, and that helped with the impending Bruce drama that Jason was expecting tonight. “About you, actually.”

“Good things, I hope,” Jason said, sipping his coffee. He _really_ hoped it was good things, and judging by Roy’s behaviour, it looked to be that way.

Dick smiled, amused. “We were waiting for the _Madmen_? You didn’t seem too worried about it.”

Jason thought back to an occasion where he and Dick had worked together against that group.

Dick gestured to his head. “You wore the old suit, with the helmet. And I was worried about something, but I don’t know what that something was.”

Jason did. Dick was worried about his reformed girlfriend, fresh into a relationship and freaking out about it. Jason had been in a pretty good mood at the time, and he gave him words of wisdom that Dick had taken in as they launched their attack on the _Madmen_.

“You, you lovesick idiot, talked to me about your girlfriend,” Jason said, shrugging. “She had quite the temper, all angry protectiveness over some asshole that didn’t like you very much.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jason chuckled. “She poured wine over his seat when he left to use the bathroom, and you thought that was _excessive_.”

Jason watched Dick as the smile spread across his face, soaking in the lighthearted nature of the conversation.

He had to admit, it was one of their better nights. There was no pressure on their job, no Batman around to sour the mood, just two brothers spending time together. Jason enjoyed moments like that, things were simpler when Bruce wasn’t running the show and dictating their lives, and the more he got to spend with Dick now, the more that rang true.

Jason spotted Batman twenty minutes ago, choosing to hide that fact and leaping further away from the location of his safehouse. He tried to keep the direction random, not wanting to tip Bruce off that he was deliberately leading him away, but Bruce would wonder if he kept it up for too long, so he came to a stop, breathing through the exertion and waiting for him to show himself.

He leaned against the rooftop access that stood in the centre of the roof, crossing his arms and trying to look as casual as possible. He placed himself partially into the shadows, scanning around to make sure that Batman was his only pursuer. There was no sign of Robin, which wasn’t saying much when the little guy was equally as good at blending in as any of them.

Batman landed, silent and steady, bringing himself to his full height and aiming for intimidating. Jason snorted, amused that he did that automatically whenever he was in the suit, forgetting who he was trying to spook with his antics.

“You realise you look stupid doing that in front of me.” Jason goaded, keeping up his uncaring posture.

“What are you doing here, Hood?”

Directly to the point, as usual. Jason shrugged his shoulders, his face unreadable with his two masks. “Helping to keep the good citizens of Blüdhaven safe.”

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Batman replied, his voice so deep that sometimes Jason wondered if it hurt. “This city is off limits.”

“I don’t think you get a say in that,” Jason said, bristling. “This ain’t Gotham.”

“I don’t care, you need to leave.”

Jason shook his head, repeating his check of the surrounding area. “Again, not your city, not your rules.”

Batman stepped forward, only the slightest sound from his boots on the ground with each step. If he didn’t want to make noise, he wouldn’t be, which only went to prove that he wasn’t thinking all that clearly. “I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve by coming here, but you can’t risk running into him, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

The _him_ that Bruce referred to didn’t require an explanation, and Jason wasn’t prepared to spare him any of his opinion on why that was a tremendously stupid decision from the man. “Yeah, well I don’t blame him for wanting to be away from you, but who’s to say he wouldn’t appreciate some company from a friendly face.”

“Stay away from him, Hood.”

“Why?” Jason pushed off the wall, closing the gap and facing off against Batman. “Because you said so, or because that’s what he told _you_ to do?”

“It wasn’t my decision, and you need to respect his choice.”

“Did you send that memo to all the bad guys who know his identity, too?”

“He’s monitored.”

“Bullshit,” Jason growled. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

If Bruce had been watching him, then Dick wouldn’t have needed him and Roy when the _Niners_ had attacked him, and he sure as hell would have shown up when Dick’s usual movements had changed over the last few days. The idea that he was watching was laughable, not only because Bruce clearly didn’t know that Dick was staying with him, but that he also had no idea of where he was right now. This visit was to see what _he_ was doing, not finding his amnesiac son in this haystack of a city when he clearly wasn’t around to be ‘monitored’.

Jason jabbed his chest plate with a finger. “You couldn’t be any further from him if you tried, and you haven’t even done that.”

“I _did_ try,” Bruce replied, his voice low and a clear warning. “He didn’t want to stay.”

“You let him see the very thing that caused all of this, you _spooked_ him. That’s not trying, that’s forcing him to witness what nearly killed him. What did you expect would happen?” Jason flapped his arms in frustration. “Thanks Bruce, I needed that, I’m all fixed now, good job.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, a sure sign that Jason’s words were hitting the right spot. “He needed the push.”

“He needed his _father_ ,” Jason hissed. “And you fucked that up, like you always do.”

“I won’t apologise for trying to bring him back.”

“He never left.” Jason snapped, doing his best to hold back from punching him to the ground. “You just wanted the luxury of a fit and healthy soldier, not the weight of a brain damaged son.”

“You have _no_ idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce growled, finally showing some emotion.

Jason grinned at him, goading the man further. “Don’t I? All you ever wanted was the kid I used to be, and you didn’t hold back when I showed up with blood on my hands.”

“I tried to help you, you wouldn’t listen.”

“Yeah,” Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “ _I_ wouldn’t listen. And now you’ve got the same problem with _him_ , only this time, when you had the chance to do it right, you screwed it up. Again. Let me guess, this is all his fault too, huh? You’re not to blame _at all_.”

“Stay away from him,” Bruce hissed, backing away and walking to the edge of the rooftop. The conversation was over, and hopefully Bruce was leaving Blüdhaven now that he’d said his piece.

Jason’s intention to rattle his cage had worked, giving Bruce enough emotional baggage to throw him off his scent. The only problem he had now was that Bruce wouldn’t be so absent in the city, not after Jason had all but confirmed he was here to stay. He didn’t expect his presence here to be hidden, not with the connections that the bats had to tell them that he was here, but hiding from Batman wasn’t new to him, just a little harder to accomplish with Dick in tow.

This wasn’t an easy balancing act, and one that would need Jason to be watching everything with a keen eye, it was extra work to do when he already had enough going on figuring out who had ordered the _Niners_ to attack his brother.

His earpiece crackled to life.

“Hood, we have a problem.” Roy said, and his tone suggested there wasn’t a life-threatening emergency.

Jason sighed, closing his eyes. “What kind of problem?”

“A little birdy just showed up at the safehouse.”

“Which one?” Even as he said it, he could hear the angry voice in the background.

“Unhand me, Harper!”

Jason groaned. This night just keeps getting better and better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :)
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, and for your lovely words and attention to this story, I really appreciate it. It's so pleasing to see what you all think, and I'm also so very slow at getting back to everyone, my apologies for taking so long to do that. :)
> 
> I had a great deal of difficulty with this chapter, and I admit, I hate it. I don't like it at all, but it didn't matter what I did, I couldn't improve on it. So apologies for the delay and apologies in advance for an awful chapter. But, in better news, I have the next two chapters written, and those ones I do like. :)
> 
> One question. Since the next two chapters are done, would you all prefer them sooner? Or should I wait and post them in weekly intervals?

Dick startled awake with a sudden noise from the lounge, he sat up in bed, waiting to hear anything further and after a few minutes, he heard hushed voices, too quiet to make out. He pushed out of bed, careful not to disturb his cat, even as she checked his movement with an unbothered gaze from her place on his available pillow. He snorted, at least _she_ wasn’t worried about what was going on outside his door.

He padded to the door and cracked it open, by the sound of it, the noisemakers hadn’t noticed, and he pulled it open fully and stepped out.

Dick stopped in the doorway, jaw falling open as Roy looked to be wrestling Robin out through the window, the latter hissing at him in protest. Dick wondered for a moment how two vigilantes could make it look so chaotic and clumsy, given how skilled they both were, but that was a fleeting thought when other matters took precedence.

Robin stopped fighting as soon as he noticed Dick, and the look of shock on his face would have been comical if Dick wasn’t so worried about what this now meant for him.

The boy turned back to Roy, frowning at him. “Grayson is _with you_?”

Dick hadn’t wanted to see any of the family, it was part of the reason that he let Jason convince him to stay with him. With Damian here, it raised the question of whether he could stay here now that one of those family members knew about it. And with Damian dressed as Robin, did that mean Bruce was coming?

“Is Batman about to climb through that window too?” Dick said, breaking their frozen stance.

“No,” Roy replied, straightening his clothes and glaring at Damian. “And he’s not coming anywhere near here, so don’t worry.”

Short and to the point, and thoroughly unhelpful.

Damian tutted, lifting his chin and looking at Dick. “He’s with Todd.”

“What?” Dick replied. “Why?”

Roy sighed and ran both hands through his hair. “Because we were told he’d be in the city tonight, and Jason went to make sure he didn’t figure out that you’re with us.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Dick muttered, walking further into the room, and tipping his head in Damian’s direction. “ _He_ knows I’m here. He’s probably going to run back to Batman and tell him all about it.”

Damian looked hurt, and Dick understood why. His eldest brother wasn’t being very brotherly, and while Dick should care, his previous experience with the kid hadn’t been pleasant. If anything, Damian had made it perfectly clear that Dick wasn’t the right person for him, that he was just a stranger in his brother’s skin.

Dick shouldn’t hold it against him, he was a child, regardless of his status as a vigilante, but it was hard not to see the disappointment on his face, and he found it much easier to just not be there to receive it when he could do nothing to change it.

Maybe if he had a connection with the kid it would be different, but he had no memories _to_ connect to him, and that meant it was impossible to fix. Dick wasn’t the one Damian wanted, it was as simple as that.

“Why are you here with them?” Damian demanded, folding his arms over his chest and looking annoyed.

Dick shrugged. “Because I want to be.”

“You left,” Damian muttered. “And now you’re here. What makes them better than us?”

Dick huffed, crossing his arms. “If you have to ask, then there’s your problem.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped, and Roy dropped his hand on his shoulder in sympathy.

“Damian, how about you go sit down?”

“Don’t coddle me, Harper,” Damian replied, but he did as Roy suggested anyway, shrugging off Roy’s hand and heading for the couch.

Instead of joining Damian, Dick opted to sit at the island, fishing out a stool with his foot and making sure to keep the other occupants in sight.

Roy glanced between the two of them, maybe trying to figure out where to sit, or better yet, where to start with this mess.

Dick took pity on him. “The way I see it, we have two choices. Robin here keeps his mouth shut, or I leave, because I’m not sticking around for anyone else to show up and tell me how wrong I am.”

Roy shook his head, disbelieving. “Come on, it won’t come to that.”

“You don’t think so?” Dick waved toward Damian. “If _he’s_ here, then he’s not the only one who knows about this place. For all I know, Batman is waiting to drop by anytime now.”

“Look,” Roy said, closing the distance to him and leaving Damian alone for the moment. “Jay’s out there throwing Bruce off your scent so you don’t have to worry about that, and Damian showing up doesn’t mean things have to change. He won’t say anything about this, not if it means hurting you.”

“He didn’t seem so worried about that before,” Dick muttered.

“He may have handled it badly before, but you don’t think he can’t change now?” Roy said, quiet enough that Damian wouldn’t hear it. “He’s missing his brother, but he never got to know you properly, not like us. Just talk to him, at least until Jay gets back.”

Dick sighed. “Don’t you think I tried that already? I’m not the one he wants.”

Roy smiled. “Trust me, I’ve known you longer than most, and the qualities that made you _you_ , the ones that _he_ admires, were there before you started the hero gig.”

_Before_ he lost his memories, was what Roy meant. Considering Dick’s currently empty head, the only part he had was the circus, and that was from the perspective of a child. What could he potentially retain about that that Damian would consider worthy?

Roy nudged his arm. “We can’t undo this, and if you leave, we’re moving with you, but that doesn’t change the fact that Damian knows you’re with us now. Isn’t it better to give him a chance?”

“I gave him plenty,” Dick whispered. “And all he could do was tell me that I wasn’t trying hard enough, that I wasn’t _him_. I don’t know how much more you expect me to give.”

“Just a little more,” Roy replied. “Only this time you’ve got me and Jay.”

Dick huffed. “You were trying to shove him out the window earlier, and _now_ you want me to talk to him?”

Roy shrugged. “I was trying to keep your secret, but we can’t do that anymore. Besides, he can be abrasive, but he’s just trying to hide the pain. You mean a lot to him.”

“ _Meant_ ,” Dick corrected. “He doesn’t like me.”

Roy sighed. “If he didn’t like you, your reaction to him wouldn’t be hurting him right now.”

Dick looked over to Damian, seeing that he had removed his mask and was watching them. He was fidgeting in his seat, averting his gaze the moment Dick met his eyes.

Dick slumped on the stool, giving a resigned sigh. “Fine.”

* * *

Jason pressed his phone to his ear, waiting for Tim to answer. It didn’t take long.

“Don’t yell at me,” Tim said by way of greeting.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t?” Jason grumbled. “You tracked my phone, you little shit.”

“To be fair, you didn’t make it easy.”

Jason didn’t make it easy because he didn’t want to be found, that was the point. And even with all the precautions, it wouldn’t be enough to beat Tim if the kid was determined enough, like now.

“And what’s worse,” Jason snapped, perching on the rooftop wall. “Is you told Damian.”

“He asked.”

“You didn’t have to tell him!”

“What’s the big deal?” Tim snapped back at him. “It’s not like we haven’t tracked you down before.”

“This time it’s a fucking problem,” Jason barked. “And I don’t need any other bats dropping by.”

“Jason-“

“Just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Tim stayed silent for a long moment, and Jason swore he could hear his little detective cogs whirring. “Oh shit, you didn’t.”

“Tim,” Jason warned.

“Bruce said to stay away,” Tim hissed. “You’re supposed to leave him alone.”

Jason scoffed. “Leave him for someone to pick off while everyone else is too far away to help? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Bruce isn’t going to like this.”

“Then don’t tell him.”

“How the hell did you pull it off?” Tim said, ignoring the warning. “I thought Dick didn’t want anything to do with us anymore?”

“He didn’t,” Jason answered. “But it turns out he likes people that aren’t trying to force his memories back.”

“Understandable. From what I heard, Bruce took it to the extreme.”

Jason was still very furious about that, and it wouldn’t be something that he got over too soon. “Dick has no clue who he is, and even if he did, who wants to see their own head getting blown out? It was an insane decision, and the worst part is, he still doesn’t think he did anything wrong.”

“He was desperate,” Tim supplied, but defending Bruce didn’t sit well with Jason. “I’m not condoning the action, but I get why he did it.”

“Would _you_ have done the same thing? Because I know I sure as shit wouldn’t.”

Years ago, Jason would say yes, he would have, but after seeing Dick like he is now, there was no way he could even conceive the idea. Everyone saw Dick the same, he hadn’t physically changed much outside of a scar and shaved head, but inside he was a different man. He still had the same mannerisms, characteristics common to him that didn’t need memories to create, and he still cared. If he wasn’t bothered by the family at all, he wouldn’t be fuming over the whole situation as much as he did.

But the life he had led wasn’t normal, and the way a vigilante thinks and behaves is so far from everyday people. It was hard to look at him and keep in mind that Dick was one of those people now, not the guy who was capable of thinking ten steps ahead while adept at flying by the seat of his pants too.

That difference meant everything. And even with his returning memories, there was no guarantee that he’d change that mindset after everything that had happened.

Dick could be changed for good, regardless of whether or not he dons the mask and suit again.

“Maybe I would’ve tried a different approach,” Tim said after a pause for thought. “But I’d have to base that decision on what I saw of him, and I didn’t get to see him.”

“Nothing was stopping you,” Jason rumbled, ignoring Tim’s logical thought process and hating his answer anyway. “ _You_ weren’t told to stay away.”

“Don’t do that,” Tim replied, his tone low and a warning. “You know it isn’t always easy to get back home.”

“Your home, not mine.” Jason stood, needing to pace and burn a little energy. “And if you care so much about him you should’ve shown your face. Maybe none of this would’ve happened if you’d been there.”

“Don’t take your anger out on me, I’m not the only one who didn’t show up. And since you’re disobeying Bruce now, what stopped _you_ from being there for him before?”

Jason stopped, closing his eyes.

_Get angry, rage and vent._ It was what he wanted to do, because since being here he had to keep a cool head for Dick’s sake, but with Dick nowhere around and someone who was used to his outbursts currently on the phone, Jason had let it slip out.

“That’s the problem,” Jason muttered. “We can save the world a hundred times over, but one brother needs help and we all go to shit.”

“You’re helping him now,” Tim said, soft and fond.

“Someone had to,” Jason sighed.

“You can’t cover concern by making it sound like a chore,” Tim chuckled. “You care, that’s why you’re there.”

Jason snorted. “I showed up with the intention of pissing Bruce off, and seeing Dick for myself. But one look at him… you should’ve seen it, Timmy, he wasn’t even home. I’m not kidding when I say he’s easy pickings right now.”

“Do you need some help?”

“Roy’s here,” Jason replied, giving Tim an indirect rejection. “And I have no idea how Dick’s going to react to Damian, so it’s best to stay back for now.”

“Alright,” Tim said, tapping at his keyboard. “But if something happens and you need backup, call me. Dick might not like it, but you can’t let his choice get in the way of his safety.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Jason said, frowning at the implication. “Besides, there’s something you can do for me where you are.”

“And that would be?”

“Deathstroke. He’s in town and I need eyes out looking for him. And while you’re at it, see if I’m dealing with anyone else that’s sniffing around.”

“Consider it done.” Tim’s tapping increased in speed, causing Jason to smirk. “But Jason, if he’s there, you’ll need the extra help.”

Jason tipped his head. “Well, there’s a little runt you sent my way. And if he plays this right, Dick might let him stick around.”

* * *

Dick held out the bottle of water to Damian, two fingers hooked around the neck. Damian looked at the bottle, then to Dick and back again. Dick shook it with a single, small movement. “I’m guessing rooftop vaulting is thirsty work.”

“It is,” Damian replied, taking the bottle from him. “Thank you.”

Dick walked around him as Damian opened the bottle, sitting beside him as he brought it to his lips. He glanced over at Roy, but the man was busy on his phone, and even that appearance was deceptive since he knew that Roy was most likely listening in. Dick turned his attention back to Damian.

He didn’t look any different, not from the times that he had seen him at the hospital, or the time in the cave when he was dressed as he was now. And where he was brash with his outward appearance, holding himself behind a protective shield, he also showed small glimpses of the kid he was.

Damian looked uncomfortable, sitting ramrod straight, but the thumb and index finger on his free hand rolled the bottle top with nervous repetition. It was the only movement outside of drinking the water, and something told Dick that this kid didn’t display anything willingly. The fact that he could see this little tell went a long way to show how hard the kid was trying to hide, but was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the action.

Damian finished sipping at the bottle, capping it and placing it on the coffee table. When he was done, he sat back, resuming his straight-backed position and keeping his eyes forward. He swallowed, then chanced a glance at Dick. “I can leave if I make you uncomfortable.”

Dick’s brows lifted, then he shook his head. “I’m not the one that’s uncomfortable.”

Damian frowned. “You want nothing to do with me, how else should I feel?”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy for me,” Dick replied, settling back on the couch. “And I get it, you miss the other guy, but I can’t bring him back with a click of my fingers… or a graphic display of a gunshot.”

The last part was delivered with a bitter tone, and Dick hadn’t meant it to be that way, but he couldn’t help it, not after what happened in the cave that day.

Damian flashed a look of hurt, there and gone as he hid behind his wall again. “You heard me at the time, I said I didn’t agree with that course of action.”

“You did,” Dick nodded. “But it wasn’t only then, was it?”

Damian turned his face away. “I just wanted my brother back.”

“And did he put up with your attitude too?” Dick muttered, keeping his eyes on him. “Did he tolerate you kicking him while he was down?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Damian snapped, whipping back around to face him. “You _forgot_ _me_!”

“And that’s _my_ fault?” Dick said, raising his voice too. “How about blaming the guy who shot me? Because I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t do anything about this, and when I needed support, all I got was dirty looks and bitter comparisons to a guy who apparently hung the moon.”

Damian blinked, stunned by Dick’s firm outburst.

Not waiting for a reply, Dick pressed on. “And I told you, _all_ of you, that I was sorry, that I wished I could do more. All I got for that, was more pressure, more insistence that I wasn’t trying hard enough, like all that mattered was the other guy and nobody cared about me.”

“I care,” Damian whispered, a crack in his voice. “Richard, you didn’t have to leave, you should have stayed.”

“I can’t go back there,” Dick replied. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“It’s not safe for you to be alone,” Damian pressed.

“I’m not alone,” Dick said, looking behind Damian to Roy.

“You’d be safer at the manor, there’s only so much that Todd and Harper can do here.”

Roy stepped forward, bringing himself into Damian’s view. “Stop beating around the bush and tell him, Damian.”

Damian stood and glared at Roy. “You aren’t a part of this family, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Roy scowled. “Don’t get me started on your family, kid. It’s because none of you talk to each other that things are this bad, and it wouldn’t hurt you or embarrass you to be like Dick for a change. I know he taught you better than that.”

“What would you know about it?” Damian hissed at him.

Roy pointed at Dick, but kept his eyes firmly on Damian. “He _raised_ you, cared for you, and _never_ gave up on you. It wouldn’t hurt for you to reciprocate every once in a while. And don’t think I don’t know anything about it, who do you think he called when things got tough, huh?”

Dick stared at them, taking in Roy’s words.

_Raised_? As in, looking after the kid? Why had Dick been the one to do that? And he’d called Roy for help, which implied that this was something long term. What had happened that Bruce wasn’t the one to care for Damian, that it had fallen to Dick to carry out?

“Grayson doesn’t need _you_ ,” Damian shouted, rounding the coffee table to better face Roy. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I called him.”

Dick twisted to the window as Jason climbed through, managing to hide his startled jump with the move. Jason tugged the window closed, then walked toward the couch, pulling off his masks as he did.

“And you’re too loud, I could hear you from the rooftop.”

Damian tutted, folding his arms over his chest as he turned his focus to Jason. “I doubt any of the people inhabiting this area really cares about the noise.”

“Still,” Jason said, casually taking a seat on the couch at the opposite end to Dick. “You both know better than to draw attention to yourselves.”

Dick blinked at the reprimand and looked at Roy, his face had fallen, as if realising his mistake. Then Roy met Dick’s eyes and he opened his mouth to talk but Dick beat him to it.

“What do you mean, I raised him?”

Jason’s movement caught Dick’s attention and he turned to him. His brother was rubbing his hands over his face, a tired and resigned motion. As his hands fell away, he faced Dick. “He lived with his mom until he was ten, then when Damian came to Gotham, Bruce… disappeared, and you and Alfred looked after him until Bruce came back.”

Dick wasn’t familiar with Damian’s history, but there had been brief references to his early years spent away from the family. He’d asked about it once, but Barbara had closed him down fast and he hadn’t asked again, judging the topic to be too sensitive for him to know about.

“Where was everyone else?” Dick asked, looking between them all. With a family as large as this one, why was it only two people that helped to raise a kid when both parents were absent?

“That’s… complicated,” Jason replied, and Dick knew he wouldn’t learn all of the details about it with the way Jason hesitated. Barbara had done the same thing. “It was a difficult time for everyone.”

Damian huffed. “That’s an understatement.”

“We’re getting off topic here,” Roy said, shoving Damian forward and making him stumble closer to Dick. “Talk to him.”

Damian scowled back at him. “I hate you.”

Roy shrugged, smiling. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Damian turned away from Roy, muttering under his breath, then he stood in front of Dick and lifted his chin. He wouldn’t look at Dick, instead finding something behind to stare at. “I don’t hate you, and I _do_ blame the person who shot you, but you don’t remember me, so you don’t understand what you mean to any of us.”

Damian looked down, meeting Dick’s eyes, his face twitching as he tried to hide his emotions. “I know my behaviour sent you away, and I know I should have done more, but you have no idea how much it hurts for you to look at me like a stranger.”

Dick’s head throbbed, and he silently pleaded for whatever his brain wanted to supply to wait, just a little longer. “You’re thirteen, I don’t expect you to handle this easily, and yes, it didn’t help, but it’s not you that made me leave. And I wish I could just fix this for you, I really do, but I can’t, it’s out of my control.”

“But you wouldn’t stay,” Damian muttered.

Dick rubbed at his temple. “I couldn’t be what everyone wanted me to be, I had to leave, just to figure things out for myself.”

“And now?” Damian said, looking at Jason and Roy then back again. “Has anything changed?”

Dick felt for the kid, and his youth really showed with the hopeful look that he sent Dick’s way.

Things had changed, and while Jason and Roy had done much to show Dick the things he’d allowed his anger to blind him with, they’d also shown him that not all the bats were people he should stay away from without giving them a chance, and not all of them were as unmoving as Bruce, which was nice to know.

Roy was right. Having them here helped to give him the strength he needed to do this.

The pulsing in his head grew in frequency and intensity, and he pushed up from the couch, hissing at the sharp stab as he fumbled his way around it, one hand guiding him by the feel of the fabric.

“Dickie?” Jason said, suddenly at his side as Dick staggered forward.

Dick covered his eyes with his hand, grateful for Jason’s support. “Headache…”

“Richard?”

_You miss me._

Dick was sitting on a rooftop, leaning his elbows on his legs and gazing out across the city. Damian scowled at him, holding up a finger.

_Tell anyone, and I will visit a thousand hells upon you Richard._

Dick didn’t smile, at least, not on the outside.

_How about I trade you a secret?_

Dick kept his eyes on the city, his heart fluttering with nerves in his chest, the darkness helping to cover him and his mask helping to hide the emotion in his eyes.

_When your dad came back, there was a moment I thought it would be better for you if you stayed with me. As my partner. As my…_

_Really?_

_Yeah, but then I thought I was too young, too untethered. I thought I might not be able to handle the responsibility. I was afraid I’d be bad at being a ‘dad’._

Dick turned, and Damian was looking at him now. His eyes, covered with the mask, couldn’t hide the rest of his face and the hopeful expression written on it.

_And now?_

_Now, I-_

His comm crackled, reporting a tripped alarm.

_Got time for a little action before you go?_

Dick stood and pulled his Escrima sticks from his back, smiling down and Damian grinned up at him.

_Indeed. Pity these miscreants. The heir to the mantle of Batman and the original Robin come for them._

Then Dick and Damian are jumping off the roof, free falling through the air.

_We are still the greatest._

Dick gasped as his legs gave out, falling to his knees on the floor with Jason following him down. He breathed heavily, processing the feeling of falling and the exhilaration that accompanied it, feeling the wind as it rushed against his face. The sensation lingered, shaking his frame and Dick found it unnerving yet satisfying at the same time.

Jason was talking to him, or maybe to the others in the room, he wasn’t sure. He was still caught up in the memory, still seeing a happy child that longed to be by his side, and wished he could see him more often. A kid that saw him as someone that would always be there for him, someone that he could trust if the world fell apart around them.

Dick could understand it now, how Damian was so torn up by what had happened, terrified that he’d lost someone that he holds so dear in his heart. He wished he’d known it sooner, that his family would have told him how strong their bond had been, maybe then he would have been able to do something about it before it spiralled out of control.

Or maybe it wouldn’t have helped at all, considering Dick wasn’t who he was before, and without his memories he wasn’t what Damian wanted in his life. He could understand why the boy was upset by all of this, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, not like this.

That’s was Bruce’s job, and the man had let Damian down. When the kid was hurting, he should have had his father there to comfort him, to help him understand and process the situation, but that never happened.

“It’s just a headache, Damian,” Jason said, crowding around Dick to shield him. “He’ll be fine.”

“That is not fine, Todd,” Damian hissed back. “He’s in pain.”

“I’m okay,” Dick croaked, straightening enough to see the room over Jason’s shoulder. “Give me a minute.”

Jason watched him with knowing eyes, careful not to give anything away. And Dick looked to Damian, the kid that he had, apparently, at some point considered having in his life permanently. Taking him in as his own, wanting to be a father for him.

He couldn’t imagine it, had never considered it in the time he had been this way after waking up. Being a father was the furthest thought from his mind, even if he had thought about living his life away from the vigilante lifestyle, he never once saw it as a potential in his future.

He must really love the kid to have contemplated that idea.

Damian shrugged off Roy’s hold on his shoulder, disappearing from sight and then back again with his bottle of water in his hand. He squatted down, holding it out for Dick. “Here, drink.”

Dick took it as Jason backed off, still close enough to help if he needed it. Dick whispered a thank you to both of them, the sentiment was shared between them. He unscrewed the cap with shaking hands, and wondered how much of a mess he would make when he eventually brought it to his lips.

Jason steadied the bottle for him, and as Dick drank, Damian watched him with worried eyes.

“He’ll be okay,” Jason mumbled, sparing a glance to Damian.

“His symptoms had improved,” Damian said, keeping his focus on Dick. “At the hospital, you gradually recovered from attacks like this. They weren’t this severe when you left.”

Dick’s memories made his symptoms worse, and the only way to abate Damian’s concern would be to reveal that, but he couldn’t, not yet. “Sometimes they’re worse, sometimes not.”

It wasn’t a lie. Dick’s medical issues weren’t uniform in their arrival or severity, or how quickly they would ease and leave him drained or not; and while he wasn’t as bad as his time spent in hospital, none of his medical issues had disappeared completely. But since his memories had started to return, they were even more erratic than usual.

“All the more reason that you should be at home, with people always around you, and somewhere safe.” Damian turned and glared at Jason. “You can’t care for him, surely you see that?”

Jason glared back.

Dick rubbed his temple. “Jason and Roy are looking out for me, and I’m in a _safehouse_ , that kinda meets the criteria you’re describing.”

“But-“

“I told you I’m not going back,” Dick muttered, pushing himself up with Jason’s firm grip to help him. Once he was fully upright, and after a brief test of balance, Dick met Damian’s eyes. “But if you keep Bruce from finding out about this, then you can come by and check up on me, how about that?”

Jason’s eyes widened, surprised by Dick’s words, but nothing beat the range of emotions that flittered across Damian’s face. Surprise, confusion, a flash of hurt, but then there was the softening relief of a child that was happy.

Damian nodded. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Dick smiled. “Thank you.”

* * *

Jason had no clue what made Dick so accepting so suddenly, but it had to be whatever he had just seen. The sudden turnaround from what he had overheard from the rooftop to now was unexpected, and Damian’s surprise was a shared experience. Although in Jason’s case, far less severe a reaction, since Dick’s memories returning was still a secret that only he and Roy knew about it.

Still, even with Dick’s permission, there had to be ground rules.

“Call ahead first,” Jason added, releasing Dick once he was sure his brother wasn’t about to fall down again. “And triple check for trackers before you even think of heading this way.”

Damian tutted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”

“And tell _no one_ , Dick deserves his privacy, you can’t screw with that.”

Damian frowned at him. “You seem extremely overprotective, Todd. It’s uncharacteristic of you.”

“You’re just not used to seeing my sunny side,” Jason replied, avoiding the scrutiny. He wasn’t comfortable for a second brother to call him on his concern for Dick tonight.

“You don’t have a sunny side,” Damian muttered, looking at him with an inquisitive narrowing of eyes.

If ever Jason wanted a distraction, he was grateful for it when it came in the form of Dick’s cat. She’d managed to sneak by them all and called out to Dick as she circled his leg. Dick passed the half-empty bottle to Jason and scooped her up, cradling her and rubbing under her chin.

Damian’s eyes widened. “You have a _cat_?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded, then he read Damian’s reaction wrong. “You’re not allergic to them, are you?”

Damian’s eyes flickered for a moment, and Jason knew that feeling. Dick didn’t know the finer details about any of them, and Damian’s love of animals was one of those details. He had a similar feeling when Dick questioned his love of books the first day they had met.

“No,” Damian replied, recovering fast. He stepped closer, holding out his hand for the cat to examine. She nudged at his hand and he rubbed a thumb along her brow. “What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one yet,” Dick said as he handed her over to him. “I’m still working on it.”

Damian examined her, a hidden action under the fond petting. “She’s undernourished, a stray?”

“Found her out on the fire escape,” Dick shrugged. “But she’s not shy about eating, so she’ll get fatter soon enough.”

“That’s good,” Damian mumbled, focused on the cat. “Her time alone hasn’t made her any less affectionate, and she enjoys the attention.”

“She sleeps on my pillow,” Dick replied, then he chuckled. “I wake up with cat hairs in my mouth most of the time.”

“Alfred is the same.”

“Alfred?” A confused look crossed Dick’s face. “Isn’t that the butler?”

Jason was used to the distant way that Dick referred to everything now, but hearing him talk about Alfred like that wasn’t something he would ever get used to. He didn’t let it show, because it wasn’t Dick’s fault and he meant no harm by it.

“Damian’s cat,” Jason clarified. “He called him Alfred.”

“Huh,” Dick nodded, but it was obvious he didn’t get it completely. “That must be confusing.”

“Not really,” Jason continued, tipping his head. “You get used to it.”

Jason didn’t get a reply, but then Dick had drifted into that mode where he was deep in thought and not really seeing anything. His furrowed brow and the minute movement of his jaw as he toyed the inside of his lip with his teeth, told Jason that something bothered him, but until Dick voiced it, he wouldn’t press.

The dark shadows under Dick’s eyes were worsened by the low light, and Jason cleared his throat. Both Dick and Damian looked at him. “Dick needs his beauty sleep, he’s got work early tomorrow. And you need to get back before someone notices and starts asking questions.”

Damian sighed, handing Dick his cat with a dejected slump of his shoulders. “I doubt Father would notice my absence, but caution should be taken nonetheless.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Dick asked, settling his cat in his arms. “I get that you’re a vigilante and all, but you’re still his kid. He’ll want to know you’re safe.”

Damian softened and smiled, maybe from the care that Dick displayed for him. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Richard. Father is a busy man, that’s all.”

Dick nodded, but it was obvious that he didn’t like the answer that Damian gave him. “Alright.”

Damian sighed, a sure sign that he had more to say, and his choice to hold it back only showed Jason that he was more worried about offending Dick rather than speaking his mind. “Thank you for letting me talk to you, I know it wasn’t something you were happy to do.”

“Admittedly, not at first, but,” Dick half-shrugged. “You can thank Jason and Roy, if it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be talking at all.”

Damian looked at him. “I suppose you do have your uses, Todd.”

Jason huffed, smiling at down at him. “You’re welcome.”

Damian turned for the window, ending the conversation as he replaced his mask. He pulled it open, and half-stepped through before facing the room again when Jason called to him.

“I’ll go with you as far as the city limits.”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Damian replied, confused with the offer. But Jason shifted his eyes to the side in silent communication, signalling that they needed to talk without Dick around to hear it. Damian showed he understood. “But if you insist.”

* * *

Dick waited for Damian and Jason to slip out the window and close it behind them before he turned to Roy. “That was the bat thing, wasn’t it?”

Roy blinked, expressionless. “What do you mean?”

Dick have him an unimpressed look. “They did the same thing at the hospital all the time, the silent pauses, talking without talking.”

Roy smirked. “You noticed that?”

“Couldn’t miss it,” Dick muttered, moving to the couch and sitting down. “It pissed me off when they did it before, I don’t like it now.”

Roy joined him and settled back, lifting his leg to rest his ankle on his opposite knee. “Don’t be too hard on them, it’s second nature to them, and not something they can turn off.”

Dick remembered the way that Bruce and Barbara would look at each other over the expanse of his bed, while he sat there trying not to drop the contents on his spoon all down himself, steadying his hand with the other. He hadn’t noticed the habit at first, but as time went on, it was easier to spot.

It was the first time he’d seen something like that from Jason tonight, and while it was obvious to him that Jason and Roy had their own way of communicating without saying anything, it felt more fluid, natural… _normal_. The one he just shared with Damian was too reminiscent to Bruce and Barbara, a formal and militaristic style rather than the casual attitude that Jason and Roy used.

It was a stark reminder that the two family members he had let close to him were just like the rest, and he had to tell himself that their intentions weren’t the same, even if their behaviour dipped into the type that he disliked.

“It’s how they were trained,” Roy continued when Dick didn’t say anything. “How _you_ were trained. I know you hate it, but it is what it is.”

“So, why the secrecy?”

Roy shrugged. “Who knows?”

“You do,” Dick countered, even if he knew Roy wasn’t going to expand on it.

“They’re probably talking about Batman, or scheming to work together under his nose, either way, they don’t want to upset you by bringing him up in front of you.”

Dick didn’t push for more, instead taking comfort in the soft purring that his cat made with Dick’s ministrations.

If Roy didn’t want to talk about it, there was no way he’d be able force it out of him. But at least he wasn’t fabricating a complete lie, something so outlandish that Dick would know there was no truth to it. Maybe they were discussing Bruce, or maybe not, but Dick had trust in Jason, and he hoped it was just that overprotectiveness that Damian had thought so out of character.

“What did you remember?”

Dick looked at him, and Roy was so casual in his seat that Dick wondered how he wasn’t dozing off. “Damian.”

“What about him?”

“I was talking to him on a rooftop, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I openly admitted that I had considered taking him in as my son.”

“Shit, Dickie,” Roy muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

“I don’t blame you for it,” Dick replied, quick to assuage his guilt. “It’s not like we can control these memories, and honestly, there’s nothing to say Damian didn’t trigger it just by being here.”

“Still,” Roy said as he pushed himself upright and pivoted to face him. “That’s a pretty intense moment to recall, it’s gotta be playing on your mind.”

“It is. I’m trying to work out why I’d consider doing it if Bruce was around for him, why I’d think he’d be better off with me. And the way I feel about the man, it’s not really helping to change my opinion of him.”

Roy seemed to be weighing up his response, and after a moment he replied. “It wasn’t so much that you considered Bruce a bad parent, it was more that you’d taken the role of that kid’s dad for a long time, and it was hard to let go when Bruce finally came back.”

Dick swallowed, his chest fluttering with emotion. “Did Bruce abandon him?”

“What happened to Bruce wasn’t his choice, he didn’t leave him willingly.”

Dick hummed. At least that was something.

“Is that why you offered to let him come back here?” Roy said, his voice soft. Dick looked at him, seeing the smile and returning it.

“It’s not the only reason, but yeah.”

“Are you going to tell him that you’re remembering things now?”

Dick sighed. “I don’t know about that. If I tell him, it’ll only get his hopes up.”

“He’ll find out eventually,” Roy countered. “Jason won’t tell him, but something will tip Damian off.”

“Family of detectives,” Dick huffed. “I’m surprised they haven’t figured this out yet, that I’m here with you.”

Roy chuckled. “We’re definitely running on a limited timeframe, but even if they did find out, we’re here to keep them under control.”

With Damian knowing about his circumstances now, it did leave him nervous. And if Bruce somehow discovered what they were doing, he’d be coming to see for himself, which left Dick feeling apprehensive about the future. He didn’t know Damian outside of what he’d seen of the kid, and the memory told him little about the type of person he was. Dick had to trust Jason for guidance, since he was the only one of the three of them to be completely familiar with him. If Jason said they could trust Damian, then Dick would follow his lead, but still keep the same wariness about him.

The warning from his creepy one-eyed stalker came to mind, and while Dick had already ruled out Jason and Roy as people to concern himself about, it didn’t mean he’d added any of the other family members to that list.

He would treat Damian the same way that he had Jason a few days ago, careful and always alert for signs of scheming. And if Damian was as open as Jason and Roy had been, then he didn’t think there would be many problems.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you're all doing well?
> 
> Thank you for your wonderful comments for the last chapter, I was worried about it and it was nice to know that you liked it. :) And thank you for the kudos as well, and for everyone taking time out to read this story, it's very kind of you all. :)
> 
> Also, I know I asked if everyone would prefer to have the next chapters sooner rather than later, and while I had intended to post this chapter earlier, I was so busy that I couldn't find the free time to get to it. Sorry about that. I am hoping to upload the next chapter in a few days time, and as yet, I haven't had time to work on chapter 10, so there might be a delay with that one. (Hopefully not too long, though).
> 
> And finally, I just want to say, however each of you spend this time of year, I hope it is a pleasant one, and I wish you all well. :)

Jason stopped, bringing Damian to a halt with him. They were a little over half-way on their route to the city limits leading back to Gotham, and the exercise served two purposes. It gave Jason time to think his wording through, and it also wore Damian down to hopefully ease his reaction.

“What is it you wanted to say?” Damian said, looking up at Jason. “I don’t require further caution, I understood what I was asked to do.”

“There’s more to it,” Jason replied, folding his arms over his chest and relaxing. “And you need to promise me that what we agreed doesn’t change, especially after I tell you.”

Damian’s face blanked, keeping his emotions hidden. “Why do I feel I won’t like what you’re about to tell me?”

“Because you won’t,” Jason said. “Someone organised a hit on Dick, some half-assed group called the _Niners_ attacked him, and he doesn’t know that it was arranged. He thinks it was random, and that’s what he needs to think.”

Damian scowled. “He was the victim of a targeted attack and you kept it from him, considering Grayson’s condition, this I understand. But to keep it from us, that was a mistake.”

Jason noticed Damian’s fists clench at his sides, and he dropped his own arms, just in case one of those fists came his way.

“Grayson… he _can’t_ protect himself, and you foolishly believe you are enough. You aren’t.”

“That’s why I’m telling you now,” Jason said. “I needed to know how Dick would react to you before we had this conversation.”

“What does that have anything to do with it?” Damian snapped, offended. “If Grayson is in danger, then I’m staying here, there are other safehouses I can use, he won’t have to know.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Why not? I would be too far away in Gotham for immediate assistance, it would be better if I stayed in the city.”

“And have Bruce asking questions?”

“If someone is after my brother, bringing Father in would increase our chances of success.”

“Or,” Jason replied, tipping his head. “Bruce shows up and Dick runs away from us all, then what would happen?”

Damian thought about it, then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “This is complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Jason muttered.

They were silent for a long moment, before Damian spoke again. “Who do you believe is behind this attack?”

Jason sighed. “I know Deathstroke is in town, but I’m not ruling out other players.”

“You don’t know for certain?” Damian replied, incredulous.

“Other than the attack, nothing else has happened. Whoever they are, they’re playing the long game.”

“Richard would be an easy target, but without his skills, I doubt Deathstroke will be interested in him.”

“We don’t know they’re gone,” Jason countered, unwilling to reveal the truth. If the hit had been planned by Wilson, then he would have been watching, and he would have seen Dick’s unconscious reaction to the guy pointing a gun Jason’s way. Which meant that Wilson would know that Dick’s training is still there.

Damian huffed. “Even if they are dormant and currently unreachable, Richard’s condition would make it impossible for him to successfully return as Nightwing, his attack just now proves it.”

Jason had to agree, especially after witnessing his brother since his arrival in the city. Dick’s blackouts alone would keep him benched, not even allowing for a chaperone to watch his back out in the field with the risk of something going wrong. 

Damian’s face shifted with a realisation, and Jason frowned at him, curious. “But that wouldn’t matter to the Court of Owls. His condition would be irrelevant.”

The Court wouldn’t care, they didn’t need Dick fit and healthy, they could use their damned Electrum and whatever else they had to get Dick back to full health. And knowing that his training was still there, locked away by his amnesia, it only solidified that idea that they’d be the ones to strike with that advantage.

KGBeast may have been the one to take the shot, and they knew they weren’t the ones who had ordered the hit, but the Court would see this chance and wouldn’t waste it.

Had the attack been the Court’s attempt to take Dick? It wasn’t the stealthiest method, and it would draw the attention of the bats if they had been successful. Which made Jason wonder if Wilson had been the one to do it, but the why still escaped him.

It wasn’t as if Wilson couldn’t just make Dick disappear on his own, just as the Court could, and if they both did it right, the damage would already be done before any of the bats eventually found him.

So, why the theatrics?

Either way, whoever was responsible, Dick needed more protection. Dick’s reluctance to be a part of this life made things difficult, but Jason knew that he wouldn’t have that luxury for much longer if they were dealing with both Wilson and the Court.

“I should stay here,” Damian said, suddenly alert and determined. “You _need_ me.”

Facing off against the Court as they were would be suicide, and Dick would be in their hands with one slip up from them. One more person won’t change _that_ outcome against a hoard of Talons, and it was even more important that they kept Dick close. But that would mean telling him, and forcing him to quit his job, all on an assumption. Dick wouldn’t do that.

Jason shook his head. “We need confirmation first, and if Bruce finds out you’re staying here, he’ll show up.”

“Father should know,” Damian snapped. “If the Court are here, he should be told.”

“Again, that’s just going to scare Dick off. We’ll lose him, and we need to keep an eye on him.”

“I don’t like your plan.”

“Just roll with it, at least for now. And see if you can find any evidence to link the Court to Dick, okay?”

Damian tutted. “I will see what I can find. But if Richard is in jeopardy, I _will_ tell Father.”

If Dick’s life was on the line, Jason couldn’t argue with that idea. As much as Dick didn’t like Bruce, he guessed he liked living a hell of a lot more, and the fallout that they would have to face could be figured out later.

* * *

Tuesday went by with the same routine, waking up with less sleep than Dick should be getting, pondering the recent events and new memory, driving annoying people around the city, and dutifully taking his meds when he was supposed to.

The question of his meds would soon be answered when Dick visited his doctor tomorrow, but for now he kept up with his schedule. He still didn’t think that anything was wrong, and as he thought about it, he wondered what could possibly be the purpose of tampering with his medication, what would be gained from it? It wasn’t as if his meds had made him worse, or that they had changed his mind on how he chose to live his life away from the family. And Dick didn’t think there was medication that could do that kind of thing anyway.

The more time moved on, the more Dick thought the creepy guy was just messing with him for fun. He hadn’t made an appearance today, and yet he was always coming to Dick’s mind and had him keeping a lookout for him.

If he did show up, he’d be demanding that they talk and that the man stopped playing with him. If he had answers, then Dick was going to get them out of him.

Dick sat in his cab after his last fare, taking a moment to de-stress and switch off for the night. He’d had a relatively mild shift, nothing too interesting, and that was a good thing. It meant he could settle down and focus on his upcoming appointment.

He wasn’t going to tell Doctor Haas about the memories, or the blackouts, but he could tell her that he was staying with his brother. If she knew that, she would be less worried about him, and maybe it would mean less tests and examinations from now on.

Of course, she would worry that Jason was as bad as she thought Bruce to be, but he was more than happy to tell her that wasn’t the case. Jason wasn’t the same, and he had no doubt about that.

Dick’s phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him from his thoughts. He pulled it free, reading the display and sighing as he swiped to answer the call.

“Sometimes you can be overbearing, you know that?”

“Hello to you, too,” Jason grumbled. “Why aren’t you moving?”

“Stop looking at me on that tracker thing,” Dick protested, frowning in annoyance. “I’m heading back soon, just dropped off my last fare.”

“You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes now.”

“So what?” Dick snapped. “Can’t a guy take a breather? Your paranoia is irritating.”

Jason muttered something, whether to Roy or under his breath, Dick wasn’t sure, since Jason had clearly pulled the phone away from his ear to do it. He soon returned. “I’m sorry, should I wait for ‘blackout you’ to give me a courtesy call? Or just assume you’re taking a nap in the middle of a busy street?”

“Or you could just wait for me to come home like normal people,” Dick replied, doing his best to curb his growing anger.

“Just get back here,” Jason muttered, unimpressed.

“Yes, _Dad_.” Dick said, just moments before Jason hung up with grumbled complaint.

As Dick pushed open the door and stepped inside, the sound of fighting greeted him. He looked at the room, seeing furniture shifted to make space as Jason and Roy tackled and lunged at each other.

It would look aggressive if not for the casual gym wear they both sported, and Dick shrugged off his jacket and hung it as he spoke.

“Is this training? Or did one of you piss the other off?”

“Training,” Roy grunted from the chokehold Jason had around his neck. He jabbed his elbow into Jason’s stomach, earning a grunt and twisted in his grip, flipping Jason over his shoulder and to the floor. “And a wager.”

Dick smirked as Jason rolled to his feet, wasting no time in lunging for Roy again. “What’s the wager?”

Jason hooked Roy’s knee with his leg, taking him to the floor with his arm and the two squirmed on the floor in an effort to pin each other. “Roy thinks he can take me down in fifteen minutes, I say he can’t.”

“That’s it?” Dick said, surprised by the ferocity of their playfight.

“Loser has to wash the dishes for a week, _after_ cooking dinner.” Roy replied, his voice laboured with the exertion. “ _And_ clean the bathroom.”

Since being here, Dick had shared the role of cleaning with the two men, and the only thing he didn’t do was cook, since Roy would already have something already being prepared when he came home from work.

He continued to watch them for a little longer until his cat mewled at his feet and demanded he greet her. He wondered what she had done to keep herself out of harm’s way, but she was good at hiding and had no doubt hunkered down until he had returned home.

Dick kicked off his shoes and then scooped her up, letting her nuzzle at his face as he padded over to the kitchen. The route was hindered by the relocated furniture, and getting near Jason and Roy would be hazardous to his health, but he made it without any problem. Lowering the cat onto the work surface, he made himself a coffee and leaned against it as the fighting continued, one hand stroking along her back as the other brought the mug to his lips.

It looked as if Roy would be the one to take on all the chores as time ticked by, but Jason was now locked beneath him, squirming around as the two seemed to be tied in a human knot of limbs. He had no idea how long was left of the fifteen minutes, but if things stayed the way they were, then Jason was sure to lose.

“You love cooking,” Roy grunted, muscles bunched in effort to hold the larger frame of Jason down. “Just give up and you can do it all week.”

“But I hate cleaning the bathroom,” Jason hissed, shifting position and almost toppling Roy. “So, no.”

Dick realised that other than the shared preparation of breakfast that first day of Dick’s stay, he hadn’t actually sampled Jason’s cooking yet. Considering how busy Jason had been, it wasn’t a surprise, but he did want to know just how good of a cook Jason was.

“I’ll clean the bathroom if you lose,” Dick offered.

“Oh no,” Roy replied before Jason could. “No allowances. If he loses he does it all.”

“I ain’t gonna lose,” Jason growled, and Roy went sailing backwards as Jason got to his feet.

The phone on the island started to chime, and Roy groaned as Jason punched the air with a sharp and determined, “yes!”

Dick chuckled. “You’re actual children.”

Roy’s shoulders slumped, eyeing the bathroom door with disdain.

Jason walked toward the island, and Dick reached into the refrigerator and removed two bottles of water, tossing one to Jason and one to Roy as he came closer, too. Jason took large gulps, downing half the bottle before he came up for air. “So, I’m not a _dad_ anymore?”

“You can be both,” Dick shrugged, smiling. “I was expecting a lecture when I came back, but this was better.”

Dick met Roy’s eyes from over Jason’s shoulder, and his expression suggested that he had staved off whatever lecture he would have received with their antics just now.

Roy slapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder, halting any possible reply. “Furniture.”

They both put their bottles on the counter and moved to put the room back in order, and Dick rounded the island to help. Once the room was back to how it once was, Roy proclaimed use of the shower first, citing his new role as chef – and household slave – for the week, and needing to get dinner started.

Jason sat at the island, leaning his elbows on it as Dick took up a place opposite, unable to lean forward once his cat landed on his lap. Jason pointed at her. “When are you going to give her a name?”

“When I think of one,” Dick replied, resuming his petting of her. “I don’t exactly have much history to draw on to pick a name that suits her.”

“You don’t need your entire history to name her, Dickie.”

“Maybe not,” Dick said, looking down at her. “But she deserves something good. She’s so affectionate and loyal, and she’s a fighter to survive how she’s lived, I don’t want to pick just anything.”

“You’ll think of something,” Jason said, swigging from his bottle again.

A name popped into his head, and he had no idea where it came from. He frowned down at her. “What about _Star_?”

Jason spluttered, spraying water down himself and onto the counter. Luckily none of it hit Dick, but he was too busy staring at Jason in surprise to worry about it.

Dick watched Jason as he coughed up the water that went the wrong way. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason croaked, continuing to cough. “What made you think of _that_ name?”

“I don’t know,” Dick shrugged. “It just popped into my head. Why? Does it mean something?”

“You don’t know why you picked it?” Jason said instead, ignoring Dick’s question.

Dick looked down at his cat, and as she stared up at him, her big, yellow eyes stood out against her black fur. “Her eyes are like twin suns, maybe that’s why I thought of it?”

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled, hiding his mouth behind the bottle. “Maybe that’s it.”

Knowing he wouldn’t get anything out of Jason, he let it go. It wasn’t as if he committed to the name, he was just throwing ideas around to see what fit her, but he liked the name, even if he couldn’t understand the reason for it.

They lapsed into silence for a while, the only sound coming from the bathroom as Roy showered. Dick stood up and went to the cupboard that kept the cat food, pulling out a can and serving it up for her with her circling his ankles in anticipation.

Once Roy was done, Jason offered Dick his turn before him, and Dick argued the point until he knew that Jason wouldn’t back down. As he showered, he thought about Jason’s reaction to the name for his cat, and it was something that made him think about Damian.

Damian had named his cat after someone he knew, and maybe Dick had done the same. Did he know someone by the name of Star? Was that why Jason had reacted like that?

And would naming his cat after this person be offensive to them if they knew? From Jason’s reaction, it was hard to tell, but he couldn’t believe that Jason would let him go with it if it was something that would upset anyone.

Maybe Roy or even Damian would tell him where Jason wouldn’t, but he guessed that Jason’s offer to wait for his shower would be for him to talk privately with Roy, without Dick around to hear it.

He couldn’t contact Damian, not without calling the manor or asking Jason for his number, which left him with little choice. He could wait for now, at least until Jason was ready to give him something to work with.

He turned the shower off and towelled himself down, swiping the mirror clear and sighing as he looked at himself. The scars had been hard to look at, and never really got any easier. Each one told a story that he couldn’t remember, and he had spent a long time looking at them to try and figure out where they had come from. In the end, Dick had given up, but with his returning memories, he found himself watching them even more in the hopes that one would trigger something as Roy’s had done.

His eyes were drawn to the bullet wound on his shoulder, and he reached up to run his fingers over it. He frowned with the distant cackle that echoed in his head, something cold and wicked… insane.

Dick startled when someone knocked on the door, and he turned to it.

“Hey, Dickie, you done?” Jason called, his face close to the door as far as Dick could tell. “Dinner’s almost ready and I need to shower too, you know?”

Dick turned back to the mirror, watching a pale, long face grin back with malicious joy. It was the Joker, someone Dick had only ever read about, and he was lifting his hand, reaching toward him. The hand shivered through the mirror, palm up in offering and Dick yelled, scampering back and away from it in surprise.

Dick’s knees hit the edge of the bathtub, taking him off balance and sending him crashing back into it. He tried to break his fall with his arms, but the steamy air had left the tub wet with a thin sheen of moisture and his hands slipped, aiding in his tumble being a painful one. His head hit the wall, his elbows slamming down onto the hard surface, and he cried out at the sharp pains that pulsed and stabbed in so many places.

The Joker whispered, singing a song with a sick, twisted tone, and the sound echoed in Dick’s head. When Dick looked up, the Joker pointed a gun at him, and Dick squinted his eyes shut, willing all of this away.

He forced himself to look again, to fight through it and put an end to this. It was his own mind playing tricks on him, he _had_ to control what his brain supplied.

The Joker was gone, no longer staring at him through the mirror, no longer reaching for him.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief, looking himself over even as Jason now rapped on the door harder, calling his name in a panic of his own.

Dick’s shoulder was bleeding, the blood running down his body, _far_ too much of it. He pressed his hand against the bullet wound, feeling the burn, and he hissed through gritted teeth, pinching his eyes shut as the door to the bathroom opened with a crack of splintered wood.

“Dickie?”

Dick jerked when hands touched him, forcing open his eyes and trying to pull away from Jason, shaking his head. He looked down to his shoulder and saw no blood, no open wound, felt no burn, and his breathing was too fast, caught in a rhythm he had no idea he’d started.

“What happened?” Jason said, staying where he was as he scanned Dick over with his eyes. Dick would’ve been worried about his modesty if he wasn’t so caught up in the horror that he had just witnessed, but as Jason reached for him again, Dick did his best to help out as he was pulled from the tub. Jason picked the towel up from the floor, holding it out to him. He took it and wrapped it around his waist with shaking hands, glancing at the mirror from the corner of his eyes.

Jason pulled his face around with a hand on his cheek, focusing Dick’s attention to him. His expression was wide, concerned. “Dick, what happened?”

“The mirror,” Dick whispered. “The Joker was in the mirror, and he reached out at me.”

The scowl on Jason’s face was frightening, but the hand that held Dick’s cheek was a comforting strength that helped to ground him to reality.

“It scared the crap out of me, I backed up and fell down.” Dick placed a shaky hand over the bullet wound, rubbing at it to ease the phantom pain. “Then this was bleeding.”

“What was?” Jason replied, removing Dick’s hand with a gentle and slow movement. “This scar?”

Dick nodded. “I don’t know why, but it felt like I’d been shot, like I relived the moment or something.”

Jason let Dick’s hand go, and he covered it back over the scar, not willing to leave it exposed until the dull ache receded. Jason guided Dick out of the room, into the chilled living area, and Dick shivered with the change. Roy approached them, shaking out a blanket and draping it over Dick’s shoulders. It was the one that they used when they took turns sleeping on the couch, weighted and soft, and Dick tugged at the edges to cocoon himself inside it.

As he lowered himself onto the couch, he looked between the two men. “Did the Joker shoot me?”

Jason nodded, dropping down beside him. “A long time ago, yeah.”

Dick tipped his head down, covering his nose and mouth in the blanket.

He knew he would have to contend with some horrible memories, especially since his first memory had been about Roy and the horrible moment in his life of being shot, but the more of them that he experienced, the more Dick struggled to come to terms with the person he used to be.

He knew about the Joker, just like he did with some of the other, well known characters that caused mayhem in Gotham, but he never knew what it felt like to be exposed to them up close. Seeing Joker reach through the mirrored glass at him was scary, and clearly an exaggeration of his mind, but that wasn’t all, not when he could recall the pain of the bullet and the sight of so much blood. Or the way that Joker watched him with a sick pleasure, enjoying the fear he induced in his victim.

The couch dipped on his free side, and he turned to Roy.

“You okay?” Roy said, placing his hand on Dick’s padded shoulder.

Dick almost nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie like that, not that they would believe him. Instead, he sighed. “Sometimes I hate what I remember.”

Jason shifted beside him and Roy looked beyond Dick to see him, then he returned to Dick. The worried look that he gave Jason caused Dick to frown with concern, and Roy covered it quickly.

“You’ve been through a lot over the years,” Roy replied, smiling to reassure him. “And you’re not exactly experienced with it all right now. Maybe the more you remember, the easier it’ll get.”

“Maybe,” Dick muttered, trying to shift the imagery out of his head.

They didn’t say much more to each other, and Roy left Jason and Dick on the couch to finish dinner. None of them had much of an appetite, but they all finished their food, if only because wasting it wasn’t something any of them wanted to do.

Dick had worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep it down, not with the flashes of that pale face in his head every time he closed his eyes, but he was lucky that nothing happened. He’d managed to swallow his last dose of pills for the day, but after that, the only thing Dick needed, but didn’t want to do, was sleep.

* * *

Jason watched Dick walk away, sliding into his room and closing the door. He sighed, slumping forward onto the counter and resting his head on his folded arms, and the picture of his brother, crumpled into the bathtub with his face pinched in pain, flashed in front of his eyes. He rolled his head to the side, giving him something else to see instead of Dick like that. “And I thought the seizure was bad.”

Roy washed the dishes, glancing over at him before turning back. “He just remembered getting up close and personal with Joker, and you know how that feels.”

“I own the exclusive rights to it,” Jason mumbled. “And I know I shouldn’t be rating all the times we’ve run into him, but that’s one of the least traumatising moments in Dick’s life that he’s met the bastard. Can you imagine how he would’ve reacted if it was one of the worst times?”

Roy hummed and Jason lifted his head, pushing to his feet and rounding the island until he was at Roy’s side.

“Do you think he’ll be able to sleep?”

“With how tired he looked?” Roy rinsed off the plate and placed it on the rack. “Sleep isn’t the problem, getting it without nightmares is.”

Jason glanced at the closed door, wondering if it would be better to leave it open, if only to hear if Dick was having trouble during the night.

When he’d heard Dick cry out, then the thumps and bangs that followed, Jason had broken the door frame to get to him. He had no concern for it, only that he didn’t have a barrier between him and his brother, and when he kicked it in, he didn’t expect to find him naked in the tub and in distress.

“This isn’t getting any easier,” Jason muttered.

“Well, we have backup now,” Roy replied, tipping his head in contemplation.

Jason chuckled, but there was no humour in it. “Oh yeah, I’m sure Tim and Damian would love to see Dick like this, like they’re not going to be bothered by it _at all_.”

“I’m not saying they should see this part,” Roy countered. “I’m saying they can help with the load. You’ve already got them working on this, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, running a hand over his head. “Not like I can keep them out of it now that they both know about it.”

Roy nodded. “Then we’ve got the time to look after him, while they do some of the digging that you were so focused on.”

* * *

Dick didn’t sleep well, and he wondered how he would look when he went to his appointment today. He was sure he had bags under his eyes, but after yesterday, he couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror this morning. Instead, he avoided it, washing up and brushing his teeth with his eyes shut whenever the mirror came close to being seen.

On top of that, his head ached from the lack of restful sleep and the blow he took in the tub, his elbows were sore, and the Joker still popped into his head whenever he didn’t focus on keeping that monster under lock and key.

He really didn’t want to go to work, but the idea of a distraction was the only thing that pushed him to go. And as he left the bathroom and entered the living space, he couldn’t help but notice the gloomy atmosphere that greeted him.

Roy was the first to talk, and his expression was obviously a cover for the worry that hid underneath. “Hey, you good for pancakes this morning?”

Jason looked up from the island and the phone in his hand, pocketing it in a hurry that told Dick he was doing something that wasn’t to be seen by him.

Dick stepped forward, and it was when he was closer that he noticed his cat curled on Jason’s lap. He smiled at Roy. “Pancakes sound good. Need any help?”

Roy waved him off. “I’ve got it, take a seat.”

Dick did as requested, perching on a stool and watching Jason pet his cat. “You’ve been really quiet since last night.”

Jason thought for a moment, then took in a deep breath, breathing out his next words. “Just worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” Dick smiled.

Jason nodded, and it was a testament to how rattled he was that he didn’t speak more.

Roy brought the pancakes over when they were done, and Dick left his seat to bring over the jug of orange juice and glasses.

Dick listened as Roy did his best to improve Jason’s mood, but nothing he did would bring a smile to his face. And as Dick chewed his food, he wondered what Jason had had to deal with to make him so miserable, especially if it had something to do with Joker.

With his impending appointment coming up, Dick thought that that would be something to help take his mind off of whatever was keeping Jason silent. He finished his mouthful, washing it down with the orange juice before he spoke. “I’m seeing my doctor today.”

Jason paused with his fork half-way to his mouth, frowning. “I thought you said it wasn’t until next week?”

“It wasn’t,” Dick replied, shrugging one shoulder. “But she’s had a last-minute change of plans, so we had to move it forward.”

“Okay,” Jason said, continuing with his pancake piece. “At least you’ll be able to pick up more meds.”

Dick sighed. Jason was still being resistant to engaging in conversation. “I don’t plan to tell her about my memories.”

“Why not?” Roy said, confused. “I thought that’s why she was brought in.”

“Well, she _is_ a leading expert, and she’s also legally required to log everything on my medical file, which means Bruce can see it. I don’t want him knowing about this.”

“But she can’t help you if you keep it from her,” Roy replied, glancing at Jason and Dick guessed they were unhappy with his choice. “Maybe she’ll keep it out of the file if you ask her.”

Dick chuckled. “She’s too professional for that, even if she doesn’t think very highly of Bruce.”

“Oh really?” Jason said, suddenly interested. “Why’s that?”

“She saw everything,” Dick waved his hand toward his head, indicating his scar. “All the highs and lows, all the times that the family were frustrated with how my recovery was progressing. She was the one that suggested I get a fresh start after the incident in the cave, not that she came inside the manor, but she saw me run out of there and was the one to tell Bruce to back off, even helped me slip away to Blüdhaven.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and Roy sat back, something setting them off, and it was behaviour that Dick was all too familiar with now.

Dick looked between them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Roy replied, leaning forward again and resuming his breakfast. Jason did the same, and whatever had triggered their reaction was hidden behind their masks again.

“So, you’re seeing her, when?” Jason said.

“At lunch,” Dick said, keeping his eye on them for any form of silent communication.

Jason nodded, and that was the end of the conversation.

Dick still ruminated on Jason and Roy’s behaviour this morning, and the distraction from the Joker that he had been looking for was easily filled with questions about their reactions. What did he say that could possibly make them shift so swiftly from casual to alert like that?

Maybe they hadn’t known about everything that had happened with his time in Gotham, since neither of them were in the know with Bruce about the whole thing. Dick hadn’t told them all about it, only small pieces here and there, and if they thought that Dick had been able to get where he was without Doctor Haas, then they really did have a high opinion of him.

Doctor Haas had given him the means to get away from Gotham, even giving him money to kickstart his journey and telling him that Blüd would be a great place to start. It wasn’t like he could leave the country, not with Bruce holding all his documents, and he didn’t have enough money to venture far, even with Doctor Haas’s small, financial assistance. So, moving to the next city and building his future here for now was the best course of action.

Dick parked up, opting not to use the allocated parking under the building as Doctor Haas had suggested and offered, instead finding a space on the street a few blocks away. The walk wasn’t far, and without the need to focus on driving, it gave Dick time to ready himself for further inspection.

As he crossed the street and approached the building, he looked up and nodded to the security guard that always stood at the door. He was never the friendly sort, and didn’t seem like taking time off was something he was interested in, plus Dick still had no idea what his name was. He was older than Dick, with dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and grey-blue eyes. Taller and wider than him, too, and not an ounce of fat on display. The man worked out, kept himself in shape, and Dick wondered when he found the time to do that if he always seemed to be working at the door.

The guard always acknowledged him with a smile, though, and pulled open the door for him as he neared it.

Dick stepped inside, taking in the grand reception area, ornate in design but furnished with modern tables and chairs, the type of things that would look odd, but clearly an attempt to fit in with today’s fashion choices. The building itself wasn’t all that old, but it was built to a specification, and whoever had a hand in designing it wanted it to look older than it was.

Dick approached the reception desk, smiling at the young woman as she looked up at him. “Hi, I have an appointment with Doctor Haas?”

“Can I take your name please?” She turned to her screen, tapping at the keyboard.

“Dick Grayson.”

“Thank you, Mr Grayson,” she replied, gesturing to the elevator. “Third floor, room three-oh-five.”

“Thank you,” Dick said.

“You’re welcome, Mr Grayson.”

Dick turned away and headed for the elevator, and he wondered why the woman had a funny way of pronouncing his name. Where there isn’t much emphasis on the ‘son’ part of his name, she made it sound just as prominent as the first part. It was weird, but he didn’t feel the need to correct her for it.

He made his way up, exiting the elevator and heading in the direction of the room, knowing the way after so many visits here. Doctor Haas had hired a room within the private clinic, choosing to be nearer to her sole patient and working on her projects at this new location. He wondered how much Bruce had paid her to earn such devotion, but her interest in his particular case was probably a strong motivator.

He tapped against the wooden door, waiting for permission, then he heard her soft call and walked inside.

Doctor Haas stood from her desk, rounding it and walking quickly to him, a beaming smile on her face. “Richard, how are you?”

He returned the smile. “I’m good, great even. How are you?”

She tipped her head, rolling her eyes. “The same as usual, swamped with work and considering a sabbatical every other minute. But, I’ll always have time for you.”

“Well, you do deserve a break. Maybe you’ll get one at this medical conference you’re going to.”

“I doubt it,” she said, stepping to the side and gesturing him toward the chair in front of her desk. “But it would be nice.”

Dick sat down, waiting for her to walk around her desk and take her seat.

“So, how have you been? Anything we need to worry about?”

Dick shook his head, sticking with his plan to keep his lost pills and memories from her. “Nothing new, just the same old troubles.”

“Any improvements?” Doctor Haas typed on her keyboard, looking between him and the screen.

_More frequent blackouts, hallucinating the Joker, remembering his past in flashes of blinding pain and emotional overload…_

“Not really.”

Doctor Haas nodded. “And you’ve kept up with your medication?”

“Yes, haven’t missed a dose yet.”

No point rattling any cages with the truth on that one, besides, he hadn’t missed many of his scheduled doses anyway.

“That’s good,” she said, standing and coming to him.

He let her check him over, scanning his eyes and checking his pulse, then he followed her to the medical bed that stretched along the wall to his right, shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes and laid down, resting back on the reclined upper section. She pulled a tray closer, and he watched her wrap the cuff around his arm, pressing the button on the machine to auto-inflate. As that worked, she prepped all the equipment she needed to draw blood.

Doctor Haas was meticulous with her work, always wanting a blood sample to check that his meds weren’t messing with his system too badly. It was a comfort for Dick, to know that she was that thorough with her job and wanting to make sure that everything was okay with him.

“No adverse reaction to the medication?”

Dick rolled his head on the pillow. “No, they’ve been fine.”

The machine beeped and she noted the reading, pulling the cuff from his arm. She picked up the needle and he closed his eyes.

“Sharp scratch,” she warned, a moment before the pinch of the needle piercing his skin. If there was anything wrong with the pills that Jason’s doctor friend had supplied him, Doctor Haas would find out with the blood test, and if there wasn’t, she wouldn’t need to know he’d lost them at all. It would also prove that the replacement pills were the same, and that the creepy guy had just been playing with him for fun.

Music started to play in the background, a soothing sound that lulled him. He didn’t know why she insisted on playing it every time, but it was pleasant and distracted him from her medical examination.

“There, all done.” Doctor Haas said, her voice soft. “Are you feeling sleepy?”

He hummed, keeping his eyes shut, feeling warm and calm, and she chuckled.

“Well, stay awake, we have to check your nerve responses.” Her voice was soft and light, fond affection rather than a reprimand.

“Sorry,” Dick mumbled. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“It’s fine. How have you been coping with daily life, any problems?”

His foot twitched as she ran her pen against it, then repeated with the other. It always tickled.

“Work’s good, got a fixed place to stay for a while now,” Dick mumbled.

“Oh?” She said, running her pen up the inside of his arm, from elbow to palm. Again, repeating it on the other and giving a satisfied hum with his response.

“It’s my brother, Jason. He’s letting me stay with him.” Dick replied, opening his eyes to see her frowning down at the tablet in her hands. “Is everything okay?”

She righted herself, smiling while shaking her head. “Sorry, just making notes. So, what’s he like?”

Dick rolled his head back, facing the wall. “He’s nice, caring.”

“And you trust him?” She said, shining her penlight in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Dick frowned at the odd question. “He’s not like Bruce.”

Her hand touched the top of his head, her thumb brushing the creases from his brow. “You should be careful, Richard. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“He’s good,” Dick said, relaxing under her gentle touch. “He’s supportive, and he helps if ever I have any of my problems.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way,” she replied, and her other hand wrapped around his wrist, feeling for his pulse again. “But you really need to be careful, things didn’t go the way you’d hoped before.”

Her concern for him was always warming, and it was nice to know that someone supported him through all this as strongly as she did. Still, Dick wanted to reassure her. “Well, now I know better.”

She hummed, picking up a soft ball and throwing it toward him, he caught it easily, handing it back to her to repeat the process several times with differing hands catching it. “I’m sure you do. Mr Wayne wasn’t exactly gentle, was he?”

“No,” Dick said, shaking his head, and reading from the sight chart on the wall when she pointed to it.

Bruce had been tactless in his desperation to fix Dick, and Doctor Haas wouldn’t understand why he was so forceful about it, but he couldn’t tell her Batman wanted Nightwing back.

Even with his resistance to being a part of that life again, it didn’t mean that he would use the knowledge that he had about the bats for his own gain, or rumble their secret out of spite. It did make things difficult to explain away, and that made Doctor Haas appear far more unforgiving, but she just didn’t understand the why, and Dick couldn’t tell her.

Dick sat through the remainder of her tests, never really comfortable with how thorough she was about them, but tolerating them because he had to. And after a while, she smiled, nodding at him. 

“Coordination is good, nerve response, normal, and vision is perfect.” She said, tapping at her tablet. “We can finish the rest of this in the cafeteria, if you’d like?”

With his physical tests completed, they would usually progress onto his psychological tests, but over the time that he’d been seeing her, they had turned into more of an informal chat than anything professional. It didn’t mean that she didn’t note what they discussed, but it was much more comfortable for Dick that way. Usually this was conducted in her office, but with this happening during his lunch break, he was happy for the change in scenery.

“Sure, sounds good.”

They made their way back down to the lobby, taking a short staircase to the lower level for the cafeteria. It wasn’t a large room, with only a few other people inside and sitting far enough apart that they didn’t impose on each other. Dick followed Doctor Haas to one of the tables that skirted the walls, passing him a menu as they sat.

The waiter came and took their order, then, when he left, Doctor Haas leaned her elbows on the table and folded her arms. “You said your brother was staying with you, how’s that going?”

Dick leaned back, settling into the seat. “Good, I think. He’s not like Bruce, he actually cares about _me_ , he’s not obsessed with bringing the other guy back.”

“Has he tried?”

“No,” Dick said, and he smiled. It was something that Jason had stuck to, keeping his promise and letting Dick decide for himself, even after the memories started to return. “He makes _me_ want to try, though.”

Doctor Haas frowned. “Richard, is it wise to push? We’ve spoken about this, forcing yourself will only cause more problems for you.”

“I know,” Dick sighed. “But he does so much for me, and I want to pay him back in some way.”

“This is a great deal different than your experiences with Mr Wayne, are you sure he’s not trying to lull you into a false sense of security?”

“It’s not like that,” Dick said, shaking his head. “I thought it at first, but the more time I spend with him, the more I think I can trust him.”

“You felt that way with Mr Wayne too, right before he upset you during your visit to the manor.”

“It’s not the same,” Dick replied, frowning. He hadn’t known any different then, and he’d been more accommodating of the family because he knew his situation was stressful to them as well as himself.

“How well do you really know him?” Doctor Haas reached across the table, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Richard, how do you know if the life you led with him before was a good one? He never came to the hospital to see you, and he was never mentioned. What if he did something that was so bad that they rejected him? You wouldn’t know, would you?”

Dick scoffed. “You’re suggesting he’s _dangerous_?”

Doctor Haas shook her head. “I’m simply saying that his behaviour now, doesn’t necessarily reflect the person he is. And maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to trust him. It just feels suspicious that he’s turned up now, after all this time.”

Dick pulled his hand free as their waiter returned with their food, and it wasn’t until he was gone that Doctor Haas spoke again.

“I just worry that you’re going to get hurt again, that’s all. Please be careful.”

Dick decided to leave his cab where it was, wanting to spend time thinking about everything, and finding himself walking to the park. He found a free bench, sitting down and tucking his hands in his pockets, toying with his new medication bottle to occupy the nervous energy that wanted an outlet.

Doctor Haas didn’t know Jason, and her concern for his welfare was something that he liked, but she was wrong to think that Jason was out to hurt him.

Jason was a vigilante, and Dick had learned that they did things differently, had experienced things that normal people would never have to deal with, and that meant that there was always a level of danger involved. And where Jason was trained to be lethal, and had told Dick himself about some of the shadier parts of his past, he hadn’t once turned any of that lethality on Dick.

So what if Jason was harder on the criminals? That was the whole point of Red Hood, to take down the bad guys so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

He hadn’t hurt the family, because why would he? And he hadn’t come to visit Dick in the hospital because Bruce hadn’t allowed it, which wasn’t Jason’s fault. Doctor Haas just didn’t know Jason, that was all.

Dick closed his eyes, groaning at the realisation that his head was about to show him something new. Feeling the growing stab of pain over his eye, Dick curled over and blocked out as much light as he could.

_Looks like you got me Mr Nightwing… but the game’s not ending this way. I go down, your new little friends go down too._

Dick’s view was obscured by his hair, curling around his face and over one eye. But he could easily make out Jason, bleeding from his nose and running over his lips in a messy trail. Jason’s hair was in disarray, fanning out in all directions, with his suit twisted from strenuous activity… and the grip that Dick had with the fabric bunched in his fists.

Jason’s expression is wild in fury, excitement and knowing he had the upper hand, sprouting his ultimatum as Dick thrummed with anger of his own.

_Your friends and neighbours don’t have a very high survival rate, right? Not to mention your little ‘Outsiders’, nice work keeping_ them _alive._

Dick’s fist was raised, ready to strike, but holding off as Jason continued to talk.

_You let me go, we end this my way. Soon._

Dick faltered, emotions warring with his need to keep calm, to gain control of the situation. Wanting nothing more than to help his brother, not cage him. Why had it come to this? Why wouldn’t Jason just listen to him, why wouldn’t he let Dick in?

_You take me in,_ my _friends make sure_ your _friends don’t live to see next week._

The images shift, melting away from the solid surrounding of a theatre to a blur, silence replaced with a cacophony. The ground moved beneath him… no, a train, and Dick stood on top of it, watching Jason ahead of him dressed as Batman, his hood and cowl removed and clutched in Jason’s hand.

_So, how do you want this to end, Jason?_

_How it’s supposed to end. With me becoming the Bat._

They were talking to each other, but the words were dulled by the sound of the train, and all Dick could feel was rage, frustration, and desperation. His family was in tatters, brothers injured, Jason the cause, and while they fought, Dick worried for them all, _including_ the one that fought against him now.

_How many people died tonight?_ Jason screamed at him. _How many people didn’t you protect?_

_And how many people did you kill, Jason?_ Dick shouted back. _Have you even kept count?_

He was blinded, caught off guard by the cape that Jason released and covered him with.

_One more death and I’ll call it a day._ Jason replied, low and threatening.

Dick lashed out, unable to see and having to rely on instinct, but it was too much force and unguided direction, and he couldn’t react fast enough to stop his brother’s trajectory.

Jason fell over the side, carried by momentum from Dick’s kick, and he managed to latch on to the side of the train, barely holding on.

Dick reached for him, pleaded with him to take his hand.

Jason refused, grinning up at him.

_What’s the matter, Dick? Don’t want my blood on your hands? Well, it’s too late!_

Dick screamed as Jason fell, disappearing into the murky water below.

Dick gasped, throwing open his eyes and staring down at the grass beneath his feet. The night from his memory gave way to the daylight of the park, and Dick shook from the intensity of it all.

It was two separate memories, two different times that Jason and Dick had fought each other. Was that it? Or was there more? What had caused such animosity between them that they would fight like that? Was their relationship before so tainted with bad feelings and hatred?

Neither of them had held back, both throwing everything they had at each other, and this went way beyond the ferociousness of his boxing matches with complete strangers. This was violent, a deadly game where his past self and his brother didn’t pull their punches to spare each other their feelings. They were fighting to win, with both of them unwilling to roll over and concede.

And the _hatred_ , the crazy look in Jason’s eyes at the theatre, the snarled teeth on top of the train…

Dick let out a single sob, overwhelmed with the emotions that had bombarded him, his own so powerful that he wanted to cry with frustration and pain. He could feel his desperation, the struggle as he battled to get the chaos under control, and the overwhelming need to make things right for all of them. But the futility was consuming, feeling as if he couldn’t win this, couldn’t make this right.

He sat back, heart pounding and head throbbing, wanting nothing more than a hole to swallow him up, just to stop his mind from attacking him anymore. But someone was sitting beside him, taking the seat while Dick was deep in the memories and unaware. He turned to face them, body slumping as the creepy guy smirked in his direction.

“You look like crap, Grayson.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :) I hope you're all well and happy. :)
> 
> Thank you for your wonderful comments, I love seeing them and it's nice to know what everyone thinks. :) And thank you for all the kudos, it's greatly appreciated. :)
> 
> This one was later than I promised, but I've added to the chapter, which delayed it a little. Sorry about that. :) Things are stepping up a notch, and Dick is in for some more stress, I'm putting him though so much more grief now, sorry. :)
> 
> I hope you all like it. :)

“Please go away,” Dick muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Creepy guy chuckled. “Is that really a good idea? You look like you’re about to collapse in your seat.”

“I don’t want to deal with you right now,” Dick replied, giving him his best glare, even knowing it wouldn’t have any impact behind it with how drained he felt.

“Bad day?”

“Yes,” Dick hissed, glaring at him. “And you’re making it worse.”

Creepy guy leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the seat and behind Dick, he shifted automatically, unwilling to have that arm so close to him. “Would you like me to call your nurse maids? I’m sure they’d come running if they knew what just happened.”

If Dick wasn’t so shaken up, he’d spend time thinking about how this man knew Jason and Roy, or whether he was just goading him with the assumption that Dick required some form of nursing care.

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Dick snapped. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“I suppose I don’t,” Creepy guy shrugged. “But whatever it was, it didn’t look like fun.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at him, completely lacking any threat, especially if this man was what he thought he was. There was no way he’d be intimidated by Dick, not if he really was in the same line of work as his family. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Slade Wilson.”

_Slade_ held out his hand, and Dick stared at it long enough that he pulled it back. The smirk on his face said the rebuff amused him more than offended him.

“Well, _Slade_ , why do you keep popping up everywhere I go?”

Slade finally looked away from him, taking in the scene around him in a behaviour that Dick was all too familiar with, and it confirmed for Dick that this man was part of the same crowd with how he subtly checked his surroundings. “You seem to be in an awkward position. Amnesiac, isolated, oblivious to any threat, and apparently antagonistic to new faces. Not the approachable kid I used to know.”

“Yeah?” Dick snapped, irritated with his assessment. “Well, when you have people telling you who you should be all the time, you’d question their intentions too.”

“And yet you let your brother in?”

He _had_ , and after this latest memory, Dick wondered if that had been the right thing to do. It wasn’t news that Red Hood was _not_ the nicest of the bat clan, and Dick had gone into this with him even knowing that, but he hadn’t considered that Bruce’s reluctance to mention him might have been because Jason had tried to kill him in the past. And what if that wasn’t anything to do with why he kept quiet about him? Maybe the memories were only one thing in a long list of things that Jason had done. Was he really that bad? And if he was, then why did he want to help Dick now?

There was more to it, Dick understood that, and he had to look at Jason and Roy as they were now, at the way they showed concern for him and how protective they were whenever things went bad. He knew a flash of memory wasn’t enough to make a judgement, and he _had_ had another memory of Jason that showed them being good to each other.

Still, it couldn’t change what he had seen, or the emotional turmoil he felt along with it. Trying to pass off what he had witnessed with justifications from the last few days was a weak defence, and Dick couldn’t ignore what his own mind had showed him.

The animosity that Jason had for him was powerfully vivid, and the wildness in his eyes belied what Dick had learned of him in the last few days. The care that Jason took with him was counterpoint to the anger and hatred he had seen in the memory, and with Jason always hovering and keeping an eye on him, citing his role as his brother, he could convince himself that Jason was a changed man, that the past was significantly different to now.

But those memories… seeing Jason so bitter and resentful, seeing how much he looked at Dick like his death would be far more welcome than anything a sibling could offer in comfort…

Dick couldn’t process this, not without speaking with Jason, hearing the story from him and making a judgement from it. But would Jason be honest with his explanation?

How would Dick know if it would be the truth?

And even if he wanted to ignore one over the other, even if Dick was willing to disregard the bad to keep a hold of the good, he couldn’t do it, because both versions of Jason were real, and with so much of his life absent, he couldn’t make sense of it all.

“You do that a lot,” Slade said, and Dick looked at him with a frown. Slade tapped his own temple. “Drift off, lose all awareness of your surroundings.”

Dick huffed, shaking his head. “That’s what happens when someone shoots you in the head, there are consequences that you have to live with.”

“Nothing you can’t fix,” Slade replied, shrugging.

“You think so?” Dick spat, irritated by his lackadaisical behaviour. “Then you haven’t had to deal with shit like this before, because it isn’t something that just goes away.”

“There are ways,” Slade said, and Dick narrowed his eyes. “In our line of work, there’s always a way.”

Dick didn’t think Bruce would have left anything out, not with his desperation to _fix_ him, and if there was a way, he would have used it. “Yeah, right.”

Dick pushed himself to his feet, taking a deep breath and looking down at Slade. “Even if there was, I don’t want anything to do with it. So, if you’re working with Bruce, you can go back and tell him to leave me alone.”

Dick turned and walked away, unwilling to give Slade any more of his time and having to get back to work. He wanted to just move past this, distract himself with his job, the one thing he could trust, and then go home and talk with Jason. He didn’t want to deal with this man and his ridiculous need to taunt and play with Dick, he just wanted to ignore it for now and latch onto his life as it was.

“What makes you think I’m working with _him_?” Slade said, and from the sound of his voice, he was following him.

“Because you show up, biding your time, and then throw in a magical cure? At least Jason doesn’t treat me like an idiot.”

That was something Dick wasn’t so sure of, but Slade didn’t need to know that he was struggling to see things clearly right now. Mentioning Bruce went a long way in giving Dick the steam he needed to keep fighting, to push his anger on the person he really didn’t want to see. It meant that he could give Jason the benefit of further thought before rushing in, giving him the time to think things through.

“Really?” Slade replied, amusement in his voice. “Then how do you explain your cab?”

Dick stopped walking, turning to Slade. “What about it?”

Slade chuckled. “You don’t know, do you? It’s _bugged_ , your brother can hear everything you’re doing inside it.”

Dick shook his head. “No. No, he said he wouldn’t do that.”

Slade laughed. “He’s a bat, sneaking around is what they do.”

Jason had _promised_ that he wouldn’t do more than the tracking pin, and he called him all the time, checking in and making sure that Dick was okay. If there was a bug, why keep up the pretence with a phone call every now and then?

Slade _had_ to be lying, because if he wasn’t, then Dick only had more fuel for the fire that was his doubt in his situation, and the trust that Dick was building with Jason was slowly being eaten away the more he thought about it.

Dick looked at Slade, narrowing his eyes. “Show me.”

Dick watched as Slade searched his car, and it wasn’t long before he emerged, holding a small device in his hand. Dick opened his mouth but Slade held a finger against his own lips. He carefully placed the bug on the passenger seat, then gently closed the door.

Dick pointed at the door. “That’s the bug?”

Slade nodded.

Dick’s chest tightened at the revelation, truly thrown with this new turn of events and wondering what he should do.

He wasn’t about to let this go without a confrontation, because Jason had promised not to betray his trust in this, and he was sorely tempted to call him right now to scream down the line at him. “Can you turn it off?”

“I could, but then your brother would know it’s off.” Slade answered, and his amusement at Dick’s suffering wasn’t helping to cool Dick’s anger.

“I don’t care,” Dick hissed. “He shouldn’t be doing that without telling me. Turn it off.”

Slade hummed. “But he’s doing it to look out for you, after all, you’re not in the position to know _who_ you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, come on,” Dick complained, flapping his arms in frustration. “I drive assholes around all the time, none of them scream freaking supervillain.”

“Then what about me?”

“What _about_ you?”

Slade shrugged. “You don’t know me, I could be a bad guy too.”

“If you were you wouldn’t be spending so long talking to me,” Dick countered.

“I would if I had plans, ones that took a while to get all the pieces in place,” Slade offered. “You really have no idea what’s going on around you, and you’re an idiot for thinking you can leave this life behind.”

Dick bristled at his words. “I don’t _remember_ it, so why would I want to be a part of it.”

“You don’t get a say in that,” Slade replied, moving closer. “Just because you _want_ to be out of it, doesn’t mean you can make that happen. You’ve got a long history, kid, and a lot of enemies.”

Slade was starting to sound a lot like Bruce, telling him what he should be doing and not what he wanted to do for himself.

“So people keep telling me,” Dick returned. “But no one has showed up yet.”

“Haven’t they?” Slade responded, his eyebrow lifting over his one, good eye. “How would you know?”

Dick huffed. “I’m guessing I’d be dead, especially if my enemies don’t like me very much.”

“Not all your enemies want you dead.”

“Then what _do_ they want?”

“Some want to make you hurt, some would want to use you to get to daddy bats, and _some_ would want to make you theirs.”

Dick blanched at the last one. What the hell did that mean?

Slade sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Look kid, if you insist on walking around and ignoring the world, your _new life_ is going to be very short.”

“Is that a threat?”

Slade laughed. “And what would you do if it was? You’re completely out of your depth, and you’re going to drag your brother and your friend down with you when it all goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your enemies are _their_ enemies, and they’d fight to keep you safe, but all you’re going to do is weigh them down, hinder them until their backs are against the wall. You’ll get them killed.”

Dick swallowed, his throat dry.

Even with his fresh doubts about Jason, he and Roy both came into his life with the promise to keep him safe, to protect him from threats he wouldn’t know were coming. Dick might have questions for Jason, needing answers for the emotional turmoil he had experienced, but he certainly didn’t want any harm to come to either of them.

And while Jason and Roy had dealt with the _Niners_ easily enough, Dick hadn’t considered just how big and dangerous the threats they were protecting him from, were, and he’d never asked Jason to elaborate on that. But Slade would know. “Jason told me some of them, these enemies I have.”

Slade stayed silent, letting Dick continue, and he thought back to the first time he had met Jason.

“The League of Assassins, the Court of Owls, and Deathstroke. He said there were more.”

“There are,” Slade replied, and he looked amused at something Dick didn’t get. “And he listed the big hitters, too.”

“Which one’s the worst? Which one is most likely to come after me?”

“The League probably won’t, the Court don’t ignore opportunities like this, and Deathstroke? Well, I’m already here.”

Dick’s heart stopped and he stumbled back, intending to run but finding he couldn’t get his brain to engage fast enough. He fell back against his car, looking at the man and seeing only that freakish smirk on his lips, and he couldn’t move as Slade came closer. Slade reached out and caught him, righting him as if his words weren’t a surprise. “You’re…”

“Yup,” Slade replied, keeping his hand around Dick’s arm. “And you, Grayson, are a liability to yourself.”

Dick tried to pull himself free, but Slade shifted them until his arm was wrapped around Dick’s shoulders and he was pulled into Slade’s side. Something jabbed against him, something hidden under Slade’s jacket, and Dick realised it was a gun, and that the man had intended for him to feel it. “What…?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” Slade urged Dick forward with his grip on him, walking them along the street and away from his cab. “And this is what I’m talking about. You’ve met me three times now, oblivious to who I am, and clearly not divulging anything to Todd, otherwise he wouldn’t let you out alone if he knew we’d already met.”

He was going to, he had _planned_ to, but he didn’t and now Slade held him close and guided him along as Dick stumbled through his options.

The gun dug into his side, and while he could make a run for it, he didn’t like the idea of being shot in the back for the effort. Even if Slade said he wouldn’t kill him, that didn’t mean anything to someone who couldn’t remember the type of person Slade was.

He could try to fight him, the action would be enough for the people around them to see and in the confusion he could get the hell out of here.

Dick glanced around, wondering if making a scene would be a wise idea.

“Don’t even think about it,” Slade rumbled. “Draw attention to us and the first person who looks this way gets a bullet between the eyes.”

Dick turned to him, staring up in shock. “You wouldn’t…”

Slade smirked. “See? If you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised by that.”

Dick kept his eyes forward, letting himself be lead along. Wherever they were going, Slade was confident enough to loosen his hold, and to anyone looking, it would be just two men walking along the street, minding their own business. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere less occupied, so we can chat.” Slade replied, reaching up and detaching the tracking pin from Dick’s jacket.

“About what?” Dick said, watching as Slade tossed his lifeline into the trash.

“Your future.” Slade replied, as he took Dick’s phone and tossed that too.

* * *

Jason swore, scrubbing his hands over his head as Roy held up the tracker and Dick’s phone. Everyone around them frowned as they rummaged through the trash, but desperation meant Jason didn’t care.

Dick’s signal had stopped, and there was no sound from his car, so Jason assumed Dick had just fallen into one of his dazed moments, or was suffering another blackout and in the nearest bar.

But when two hours ticked by, and still no movement, Jason didn’t like it, and he and Roy weren’t about to wait any longer to check on him.

“We need to call in backup,” Roy muttered, putting the phone and tracker into his coat pocket. He walked toward Dick’s cab, passing Jason and tapping his shoulder on the way. “We’ll find him.”

“We need to check the cameras, there’s several around that I can see.” Jason replied, scanning around the area. He spotted a homeless man across the street, being ignored by everyone around him. He called out to Roy. “Be right back.”

As he neared the man, he squatted down, offering a smile. “Hey, you been here all day?”

The man chuckled, it was hoarse. “All day, everyday.”

Jason tipped his head toward Dick’s cab across the street. “Did you see a guy over there? Leather jacket, jeans, close shaved head?”

The old man nodded. “The kid who drove that cab? I saw him.”

“Did you see what happened to him?”

The man shrugged, oblivious to the urgency. “Big guy with him, one eye, all white hair and beard. They walked away after talking for a while.”

_Fuck_.

“Were they arguing?”

“Nope,” the man replied. “Just talking. The kid got all wobbly on his feet, and the big guy helped him walk.”

Drugged? Or had Slade just spooked Dick enough that he didn’t fight him?

“Did you see which way they went?”

The man pointed, and Jason followed his aim. “I figured he didn’t think the kid was fit to drive, and they walked over there. Lost sight of them when they turned the corner though.”

Jason reached into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it over. “Thanks, buddy.”

The man took the bills, then his eyes went wide as he met Jason’s eyes, a huge smile on his face. He nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Jason stood, walking back to Roy. “Wilson took him.”

Roy cursed.

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling his phone from his pocket and staring at it.

Roy sighed. “Damian is going to be out for blood.”

“Yeah,” Jason replied, thumbing the contact list on his phone. “He’s not the only one.”

* * *

After Slade had dragged him away from his cab, Dick had been ushered into a car, blindfolded, then bound with his hands tied in front of him. He didn’t want to test what would happen if he pushed and tried to reach for the blindfold, not with the threat that either he or someone else could be hurt if he disobeyed. Instead, he sat obediently as they drove away.

After an indeterminate time on the road, he’d been taken from the car and guided along, stumbling here and there with Slade righting him every time.

Getting up the many flights of stairs was a battle, with Slade showing just how strong he was as he lurched Dick forward with a grip on the back of his jacket. When they finally stopped, the blindfold was pulled away, and Slade freed his hands, shoving Dick through a doorway and into, what appeared to be, Slade’s apartment.

The room was lightly furnished, having similar furniture to Jason’s place, except this one had an extra single chair and a no television or bookcase. The place wasn’t meant to be permanent, that much Dick could tell. There was no kitchen that he could see, but to his right was an archway, the space beyond too dark to see anything.

“Sit down,” Slade instructed, gesturing to the couch.

Dick did as he was told, still reeling from the revelation that he was up close and personal with someone that had referred to himself as a big hitter. His _name_ implied danger, and he didn’t even blink when he threatened to kill a complete stranger if they looked their way.

Being angry about a bug in his car, and even worrying about his memories of Jason and their past fights, paled in comparison to what was happening now.

Slade sat in the single chair, leaning back and deliberately exposing the gun that was holstered at his side, idly flipping his jacket apart as he settled. Dick eyed it and Slade chuckled. “You know, it is quite entertaining to see you like this, all spooked and frightened.”

“I’m glad I amuse you,” Dick muttered, irked by the comment but still realising his situation wasn’t a good one.

“Amusing, yes.” Slade pulled the gun free, resting it in his lap and watching Dick’s reaction like a hawk. “But ultimately, not what I want.”

“Then why bring me here?”

“Because,” Slade said, removing the clip and placing it on the arm of the chair. “You’re being coddled by a couple of kids that want to let you decide your future, and that’s taking too long.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Slade placed the gun down on the other arm, then before Dick could comprehend what was happening, Slade was on top of him, one hand pressing against his forehead, holding his neck exposed, and the other holding a knife painfully at his throat. Dick gasped, swallowing and feeling the scrape of the blade edge against his skin. Slade leaned in close, his face blank. “This knife would never have reached your neck, and you wouldn’t be sitting here ready to piss your pants, terrified of a simple blade.”

“I’m not him,” Dick hissed, frozen in place and unwilling to move. “And it’s not my choice, I can’t control this.”

“Of course you can,” Slade whispered. “And you will by the time I’m through with you.”

* * *

Jason ran the rooftops, using the exercise as a means to calm himself down, but it wasn’t that easy with Damian still ranting at his side.

He’d left the safehouse and dragged Damian with him, all to give Tim and Roy time to work, and give him and Damian something to do. With Roy checking the cameras and trying to trace their route, and Tim working through possible connections in the city to Wilson, in the hopes that he can get a location, it meant that Jason could carry out his own investigation on the streets. And Damian needed the outlet, which was the main reason he’d allowed him to come along in the first place.

“These _Niners_ ,” Damian said, leaping between rooftops in a move that Jason knew Dick had taught him. “You believe they will have the intel we need? Wilson isn’t that sloppy.”

Even with Deathstroke snagging Dick, after what Dick had said about his doctor, he wasn’t sure that Wilson was the one to use the gang in the first place.

Doctor Haas had helped Dick flee Gotham, and that wasn’t exactly professional. Whatever her plan was, she had convinced Dick to put distance between himself and his family, and while that was manipulation on its own, the family hadn’t helped with their treatment of Dick. He might have thought her behaviour strange, but he would’ve been too angry to see anything wrong with it with the way the family had dealt with his situation, and with the amnesia, he wouldn’t have questioned her anyway, seeing _her_ as someone he could trust because of her kindness.

He’d already asked Tim to look into her, and Tim had been surprised by the request, citing Bruce’s previous scrutiny of her history before bringing her in, but with the possibility that she was tied to the Court, he insisted it needed another look. Tim was working on that when Jason called him, and now that was on hold while they changed their target and focused on Wilson.

“Someone used them to attack Dick, which means they might have something to offer.” Jason replied. “If they have answers, I want them.”

“I’ll be more than happy to incentivise them,” Damian growled.

* * *

Dick coughed and spluttered, breathing heavy on his hands and knees as he tried to will the pain away. His stomach was alight with pain, and he was certain Slade’s blows were deliberately aimed to avoid cracking any of his ribs.

The knife and gun had been removed, and without them in sight, Dick held a little more strength of will, but considering his situation, there wasn’t much of it. So far, Slade had resorted to hand to hand, and after the first punch when Dick refused to fight, he wasn’t willing to stick with a beating without some resistance, but Slade was like smoke, and punching him would only happen in Dick’s dreams.

“Up,” Slade barked, but Dick didn’t have any energy to straighten, let alone find his feet again. “Get up, Grayson.”

“Fuck you,” Dick panted, twisted his neck to glare at the man.

He had no idea how Slade wasn’t winded, having been the one to move more than Dick, and expelling energy with each blow that Dick received. Dick was sure he was holding back, too, since he’d been hit plenty of times by people that wanted to hurt him, and this man wasn’t giving that level of commitment.

“You’ve taken more than this in the ring,” Slade goaded, circling him. “And you’ve taken _far_ more than this on the streets.”

Dick had long since gotten over his surprise at how much this man knew of him, in the past and now, but none of that mattered when Slade wouldn’t listen to him.

“I _don’t remember_!” Dick snapped, as Slade grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Dick staggered, swinging for him and unsurprised that he missed. “You can’t beat my fucking memories back, you asshole!”

Slade watched him, calculating and cold. He was thinking, that much Dick knew, plotting his next move. He tipped his head. “Do you know what I can do?”

Dick spat blood onto the floor, enjoying the man’s nostrils flare at the blatant retaliation. “Other than threatening to kill people?”

Slade circled him again, and Dick turned with him, his movements jerky with pain and tiredness. “I have enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, sight, hearing, smell. I can last in a fight far longer than most, heal quicker, think faster. I can tell what you’re going to do before you do it.”

“You didn’t mention your ego,” Dick muttered. “Is that enhanced too?”

Slade chuckled. “The point I’m trying to make, is that your family can’t beat me. And I wonder what would happen if I brought Todd here and kicked the crap out of him in front of you.”

Dick should be shocked by that, but after learning what he had about Slade, he wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that. “You’d have to catch him first.”

“One call,” Slade replied, holding up his finger. “And he would come running… for you.”

“You wouldn’t have ditched the tracker and phone if that was an option.”

Slade lunged, and Dick barely managed to bring his hands up in time, but it didn’t matter as Slade knocked him to the ground again. Dick squirmed, trying to keep his arms away from Slade when he grabbed for them, but he couldn’t stop him, then cold metal wrapped around his wrists.

As Slade climbed off him, Dick twisted until he was sitting, and he tested the cuffs that held his wrists behind his back.

Slade walked to the chair, sitting down, calm and controlled, as if they hadn’t just been fighting. “You have ten minutes to get out of those cuffs.”

* * *

Jason watched, leaning against a crate as Damian _incentivised_ his prisoner, pinning the man to the ground and laying another blow on his face. He barked questions in between blows, and if Jason was in a better mood, he’d be the responsible adult and curb Damian’s enthusiasm to a more delicate level. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

So far, they’d learned nothing, and a call back to the safehouse had revealed no results as well. Jason’s frustration would soon reach boiling point, and if they didn’t find something soon, then _he’d_ be laying the heavy hand down on this gang, and Damian’s efforts would pale in comparison.

“I don’t know anything!”

Jason focused back on the interrogation.

“None of us saw the guy, he just sent us a text and told us who to target and when!”

“Then how do you know it was a _guy_?” Damian replied, speaking the last word with disgust.

“That’s what Bobba said!” The man whimpered, shielding his face with shaking hands. “He met him in a bar the night before, said he’d got a job, and we just had to wait for it to come in.”

Damian shook him by his shirt. “And where is this _Bobba_ now?”

The man shook his head. “No one’s seen him since.”

Jason sighed, standing up and walking over to them. He placed his hand on Damian’s shoulder, urging him back. “We’re done here.”

Damian looked at him, then back down to his prisoner, giving him one final punch to put him out long enough for the police to arrive and deal with the unconscious gang members scattered around the room.

As they walked away, Damian spoke. “Our potential lead is dead.”

“Yeah,” Jason replied with a sigh.

There was no way that Wilson would leave someone around that could identify him, and without that witness, they’d need to look elsewhere.

* * *

Ten minutes turned to thirty, and Dick was still cuffed. Only now, Slade had stuck a blindfold on him and would only give away his position in the room with his voice, silent in every other way.

Being blinded wasn’t helping, and Dick continued to twist his wrists against the restraints, trying to ignore the pain and the wet feeling that he knew was his blood. He kept trying to locate Slade, wondering what he wanted with this blindess, wondering why he was keeping him from seeing. It had to be just another method to spook him, something to rattle him and make this harder for him, a distraction to keep him from focusing on the impossible task that Slade had set. His heart was racing, breathing too quickly, and if this kept up, a panic attack was bound to happen. “I can’t do it.”

“Try harder,” Slade said from his left.

Dick shook his head, and the blindfold shifted, but then he startled as it moved back into place as Slade had repositioned it. “ _I can’t_ , I don’t know _how_ , okay?”

“You do,” Slade said, now on his right and far too close. “They’re just cuffs.”

“Slade, _please_ ,” Dick cried, shaking his head to try and move the blindfold again. “It won’t work, this is stupid, it… why would you do this?”

“I’ve told you why,” Slade said, as if this conversation were normal.

“I can’t do this, I really can’t. You’re wasting your time,” Dick said, and now his chest tightened with futility. “Whatever you’re trying to get here, it isn’t going to work.”

Dick froze when metal pressed against his neck, then the blindfold was tugged up to let Dick see. Slade was crouched in front of him, holding a gun to his throat. Dick held his breath as he focused on Slade’s movement, watching as the gun slowly tracked down his body until Slade pointed it at his knee.

“Thirty seconds, that’s all you have before things get unnecessarily messy. Twenty-nine…” Slade covered his eyes again, and then Dick heard the click of the hammer being pulled back.

Dick squirmed, ignoring the reignited burn in his wrists as he twisted and tugged, trying to free himself from the cuffs as Slade continued to count down.

Slade knew, he saw it when he watched Dick, from the moment that Dick realised he had a gun and when he sat down and toyed with the damn thing in front of him. From the moment that the gun disappeared and Dick fought back, he knew what to use to make Dick panic.

“Twenty-one.” Slade continued. “I’m starting to think that killing you would be less hassle.”

“Slade…” Dick pleaded, eyes watering. He blinked to clear them, feeling the hot tears on his skin for a moment before they were soaked into the fabric. Slade sighed and Dick yanked his arms apart in desperation, his face twisting in pain with the move, and the realisation that the cuffs were _not_ coming off.

“Eighteen.”

“This is fucking crazy,” Dick shouted, breathing heavier as Slade stopped his attempted retreat, pressing his weight down on Dick’s thigh. The barrel dug into his knee, and Dick’s fear of permanent disability didn’t miraculously give him the knowledge of escaping from locked cuffs. He kicked out with his free leg, but Slade grabbed it, twisting enough that just the smallest amount more would dislocate it. The movement dragged Dick down, his arms pinned beneath him, and less room to move. He was so screwed.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six-“

_Fuck_ , fuck, fuck, fuck. Dick couldn’t do it, he couldn’t get free and Slade was about to ruin his life for good. Even if he managed to get free, even if someone, _somehow_ , managed to find him and save him from Slade, Dick wouldn’t ever be the same. He didn’t want to go back to the hospital, he didn’t want yet another thing to cripple him. He was sick and tired of being an invalid, sick of everyone telling him how he should be and ignoring his wishes. He was sick of carrying the weight of people he didn’t know, expected to slot back into their lives on command. And he was sick of Slade’s _fucking_ _games_.

The darkness shifted, and there was no longer a blindfold over his eyes, but the combination of night and overcast sky left him in shadow, hunkered down on a fire escape as he breathed heavy from exertion and agony.

Dick’s leg flared with pain, and he looked down, seeing the blood, feeling the burn of a bullet. The rain came down heavy, soaking him as the cold seeped into his skin. Darkness wanted to swallow him up, but he had to warn them, fight it off long enough to tell Batman that the cops weren’t holding back, that he was bleeding out.

_Batman… the cops, they’re shooting on sight. Be careful_.

_Got shot_. Dick laboured to breathe, feeling his last reserves fading. _Leg this time. Cops this time. It’s… bad._

Dick blinked, breathing hard, his vision returning as he looked across the room to Slade, the man’s eyes were alight with excitement and blood soaked into his beard in a messy trail. His lip was split, the wound closing before Dick’s eyes, and Dick’s hands were free, the cuffs gone as one end now hung from Slade’s own wrist, and Dick stood on shaking, bullet free, legs. Another memory, another blackout, and Dick was too disorientated to take any more of this pain. He groaned. “No…”

“ _There_ you are,” Slade said, delighted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. :)
> 
> Sorry for the long delay, my head wasn't in the right frame of mind for writing after receiving some bad news, but I'm back now and working on this story as before. 
> 
> I have to say that I was blown away with the response to the last chapter, and admittedly, my anxiety is rising with each new update, because I'm worrying about disappointing anyone. But I am very grateful to all of you for your kind words and I hope I can keep you all entertained, so thank you all so much for sticking with this story. :)
> 
> Hope you like it. :)

“Any luck?” Jason said, climbing through the window with Damian close behind. 

Tim sat at the island with Roy looking over his shoulder, both studying the laptop. Only the latter turned away long enough to see them, looking back down as Tim answered. “Slade’s covered his tracks well, but we did find an ATM that caught them on camera. It’s not much, but it’s a start.” 

Jason moved over to the island, waiting for Tim to show them what they’d found. It was a pixelated close up, the camera not designed for longer range, but he could see Dick being led along by Wilson. They couldn’t see their faces, the video was far too blurred for that, but the stiffness in Dick’s shoulders was easy to see. 

“We have a direction,” Damian said, and Jason wasn’t surprised that Dick’s cat was tucked under his arm. Since Dick wasn’t here, it was as if the cat knew something was wrong and Damian had been the one that the cat had turned to. “Are there any traffic cameras in that area?” 

“None that they show up on, but there are cameras in a few of the stores along that route, if they upload to a cloud, I should be able to access them and check.” Tim kept typing. “Otherwise, we’ll need to take the hands-on approach.”

Which meant breaking into each one and checking manually, Jason hoped most of them were online. 

Roy looked to Jason. “What about the _Niners_?” 

Jason shook his head. “The only person who saw their employer is missing.” 

“Dead,” Damian clarified, sitting at the island and watching the screen along with Tim. “And we only know it was a man, which doesn’t confirm that it was Wilson.” 

“We don’t know that it _wasn’t_ ,” Jason replied. 

“It could be someone from the Court,” Damian offered. 

Tim looked up. “How do we know that Slade isn’t working with them? He could be taking Dick right to them.” 

Jason shook his head. “If they wanted him, and if this Doctor Haas is working for them, they’ve had plenty of time to pick him up. Hell, he was with her earlier today.” 

“Bruce checked her out,” Tim said, leaning his elbow against the counter and focusing on Jason. “You know how thorough he is about this kind of thing.” 

Roy rounded the island and sat down opposite Tim. “Yeah, but the guy was worried about his son that just took a bullet to the brain, you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t miss something under those conditions.” 

“Father was distraught,” Damian added, looking glum as he stared at the laptop. Jason could tell he wasn’t really looking at it, though. “His behaviour was irrational, chaotic, had he been thinking clearly, he might have noticed any discrepancies, but time was of the essence.” 

“Which is why we need to take another look at her,” Jason said, joining the rest of the group and sitting beside Roy. 

“If she is working for the Court,” Roy said. “They’ve got to be watching him.” 

Tim nodded. “Slade had to be, too. He couldn’t have just run into Dick coincidentally.” 

“Which means the safehouse could be compromised,” Jason added, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“And you said you could protect him, Todd,” Damian grumbled. “Clearly, I made a mistake believing that.” 

“Hey, _I’m_ the one who ignored Bruce and came in the first place,” Jason snapped, pointing across the table at Damian. “While you sat back and left Dick here alone.” 

“Jay’s right,” Tim added. “We wouldn’t know anything was wrong until it was too late.” 

“And yet, Richard is still gone.” Damian muttered. 

Roy pulled over the second laptop that sat closed on the counter. “Then we need to stop arguing and get back to tracking them down. You two can bicker about this later.” 

Jason sat back, curbing his irritation and watching as Damian did the same. He was sure about Doctor Haas, even without the confirmation, he _knew_ she was working for the Court, and his gut was never wrong.

The Doctor had been with Dick since he woke up, and she handled his case even before that. Whatever her plans, they had to be already in motion, and they were all way behind. If Dick was being guided along in some way, then everything about his current way of life needed to be scrutinised. 

The Court would see Dick’s amnesia as the perfect time to strike, having a blank slate to mould however they wanted, but now that his memories were returning, that would _have_ to change their plans. It also raised the question of Dick’s memories, and why they were returning now, and Jason didn’t think that it was simply because _he_ had showed up in Dick’s life, when he’d spent the earlier months in Gotham, surrounded by family and nothing had happened then. 

Something was different now, and he kicked himself that he had only just realised it, the _only_ thing that came to mind was the change in his medication. Dick hadn’t been using the ones prescribed by Doctor Haas, and not long after that change, Dick started to remember his past. He’d seen her today, and had probably been prescribed some more by her. 

Jason tapped Roy on the shoulder, gesturing with his head to the bedroom. Roy understood, standing with him and walking toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” Damian asked, and Jason turned to see his narrowed-eyed suspicion. 

“The grownups need to talk,” Jason replied. “Keep working.” 

Damian huffed, keeping his eyes on Jason to let him know that he wasn’t happy with the secrecy, but eventually focused back on Tim’s laptop. 

Jason pushed open the door, letting Roy enter first and following behind, then he closed it and leaned back onto it. “It’s his meds.” 

Roy frowned. “What about them?” 

“He started to remember not long after he started to use the ones I got from Leslie,” Jason whispered. “And Dick’s doctor is the one prescribing them. What if they’re using the meds to keep his memories locked away?” 

“If they are, and stopping him from taking them brings his memories back, how are the Court going to keep them from returning permanently? I don’t think their talons take regular medication.” 

Jason shrugged. “Maybe they’re using something else alongside it, hypnosis or something, but his meds are definitely a part of it.” 

Roy thought for a moment, his eyes drifting down to the floor. Then, he looked up. “You know, keeping his memories locked away would make it easier to twist his head around, who’s to say they haven’t been doing that already?” 

“And we’ve stepped into their plans, we’ve changed things.” 

Roy nodded. “And if they figure that out, they’ve got to adapt, make their move sooner.” 

Jason agreed, and that prospect wasn’t appealing. If Dick was put back on that medication, could it undo everything that Dick had remembered so far? Would it return him back to the way he was before? If it could, then Dick would be back to where they want him, but if the genie was out of the bottle and unable to be put back, then the Court could still manipulate him how they want with little resistance as he was right now. 

And if Wilson had his own plans for Dick, did he know that Dick was remembering? If he did, would that change anything for him as well? 

Jason knew first-hand how easy it would be to manipulate Dick, even with what little he had recalled. Wilson would only need to give Dick something to focus on, just like the League did with him, twisting enough that Dick would see it from Wilson’s point of view with the more he learned about his past. 

“We have to find him, before Wilson or the Court do more damage than we can fix.” 

* * *

Dick blinked awake, groaning at the ache throughout his body. The room he was in was dark, only the warm glow from the bedside table lamp broke the shadows, and he shifted himself to a sitting position. The bed beneath him was clean and crisp, fresh bedding below him and soft sheets above, and as he looked at himself, he found his wrists dressed with neat, white bandages and thankfully painless. He’d been stripped down to his t-shirt and his jeans had been replaced with sweatpants, and while that should be disturbing, he was more concerned with the man, himself, that had done all of this while he was out cold.

After everything that Slade had put him through, Dick wasn’t surprised that he’d collapsed, overwhelmed with too much stimulation and carried under with exhaustion. The last thing he remembered was Slade watching him fall with that smile still on his face. 

Slade had pushed him with the intention of bringing his training out, and Dick had done just that, only he couldn’t remember doing it. Instead, he had remembered another occasion where he had taken a bullet, and he rubbed at the scar hidden beneath the sweatpants as he recalled it again.

He couldn’t remember the actual shot being taken, just like he hadn’t with the one that the Joker gave him, only the flaring pain and the blood that ran from the wound. Slade couldn’t have known that the gun would be the one thing that would produce a reaction, not until Dick had shown his discomfort whenever he caught sight of it, but it didn’t take much for him to connect the dots and use it for the biggest push.

Dick didn’t know what Slade wanted, and when the man was supposedly one of his past enemies, it was clear that he had something planned, especially with the previous occasions that he had paid Dick a visit. 

He’d been blind to the whole thing, and that was his own fault, because he should have listened to Jason right from the start. But Dick had been stubborn in his ignorance, insistent that his life didn’t have to change, and he hadn’t considered just how much he couldn’t walk away from his past life.

The only consolation he did have, was that he knew he could land a hit on the man that he couldn’t hit before, one that had resulted in a split lip. If he could fight off someone as skilled and calculating as Slade, then Dick had hopes that he could find his own way out of this situation. He just needed to get his subconscious on the same page. 

The door opened and Slade stood in the doorway, holding a tray in one hand and smiling as he leaned against the frame.

Dick frowned at him. “Stop smiling at me, it’s creepy.”

Slade snorted. “Would you prefer I threaten to shoot you again?”

“No,” Dick muttered, throwing the covers off his legs and twisting to put his feet on the ground. “I definitely would not.”

“Then how about something to eat?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at him. “Playing good cop now?”

Slade chuckled.

Dick made to stand but Slade entered the room, handing the tray over. Dick eyed it, then looked up. “How do I know this isn’t poisoned?”

“You don’t,” Slade replied, folding his arms over his chest. “But feel free to go hungry.”

Dick moved the tray to one side, placing it on the bed. He wasn’t about to eat anything until he had answers. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, clearly, or I wouldn’t be asking.”

Slade sighed, nodding toward the food. “I want you to eat, then you can leave the room and we’ll talk.”

Dick said nothing, then watched Slade walk out of the room and close the door. He looked back down at the food, it was a simple bowl of pasta, an apple and a bottle of water. Alongside it were two of his pills, and he picked them up to study them. They looked the same, and Dick thought that if Slade had ill intentions, cutting off his meds would be a good start. Since he hadn’t, all Dick could do was follow along for now. With a groan he reluctantly complied, picking the tray back up and placing it on his lap, knowing that Slade would give him hell if he didn’t do as he was told anyway. 

He wasn’t buying this nice guy act, not after everything he’d done, and Dick was wary of him, and very much still frightened of him. Even if Dick’s hidden training _could_ come out to protect him, that wasn’t a guarantee that it _would_. And even if it did, the enhanced guy on the other side of that door had the advantage, and Dick was _not_ in a position to win right now. 

Once he was done, he climbed out of bed, picked up the tray and padded out of the room, then he had to guess which of the three other doors in the hallway would lead him to wherever Slade was.

As if the man knew, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and Slade stood there, gesturing him to follow. Dick did, and when he walked through into the next room, he frowned. This room was different, with more furniture and a more lived-in feel to it. Most definitely a different apartment.

“Where…?”

“Another safehouse,” Slade said, taking the tray from him and placing it on a side table. He moved toward the couch, taking a seat and waiting for Dick to follow suit. Dick moved and sat at the opposite end of the couch, keeping his eyes scanning the room. 

There was a bookcase along the wall by an archway, the kitchen clearly visible beyond it, a side table by the door he came through on his right, a television opposite the couch and dining table behind them, near what Dick assumed was the many entry door. There were two windows, evenly spaced to his left, the blinds were drawn, obstructing any view of the outside. It was furnished, looked to be lived in, but Dick couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t the sort of place that Slade called home. It was almost as if the place was made to look homely, but devoid of anything too personal. 

“Why did we move?”

“Because the other one wasn’t meant to be permanent,” Slade replied, tapping away at the phone in his hand.

“Then why go there in the first place?”

Slade didn’t answer. 

“Where are we?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Dick glared at him. “I _want_ to know.”

Slade stopped tapping, lifting his eyes and giving Dick enough of a look that told him he was pushing his luck. 

Dick pushed anyway. “You can’t just keep me here, I have a life, and a _job_.”

“You drive a cab, hardly a life changing career.” Slade finished with his phone, tucking it back into his pocket. “And your life consisted of bar hopping, hustling pool and underground boxing, I doubt you’d be missed.”

He made no mention of Jason and Roy, and Dick didn’t want to draw attention to that omission. 

“That’s not the point,” Dick protested. “You kidnapped me.”

“We’ve already established that.”

“Then tell me what you want?”

Slade tipped his head, studying Dick for a long moment before he spoke. “I’ve already told you, you’re here because you can’t keep living in denial. You need to accept that your life is dangerous, and it’s not going to stop _being_ dangerous just because you want it to.”

“But I don’t understand why you’d get involved like this,” Dick replied, waving his hands. “You said it yourself, you’re one of the people that Jason warned me about. Why are you pushing me to be the guy I used to be? I would’ve thought you’d want me dead or something.”

Slade raised an eyebrow at him. “The fact that you need to ask these questions only proves my point, and I’m not pushing you to be anyone but yourself.”

“What point?” Dick snapped. “You attacked me and threatened me with a gun, just to make me fight you.”

“And you did, exceptionally well too. Not bad for someone that had to learn how to function from scratch a few months ago.”

“Should I be grateful for that compliment?” Dick replied, wondering how this man could know so much about him. “The enhanced guy with _death_ in his name thinks I did a good job, yay me.”

Slade snorted, shaking his head. “Take the compliment kid, I don’t hand them out to just anyone.”

Dick huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back and slumping into the couch. “I don’t want compliments; I want to leave.”

Slade rolled from the hip, moving closer and crowding Dick. He flinched and cowered away as Slade leaned over him, one knee pressed into the seat of the couch by his leg, and one hand on the back, deliberately close to his head. He grinned when Dick showed his emotion at the action.

“You’re trying to scare me.” Dick said, jutting out his chin.

Slade narrowed his eye. “I don’t need to _try_ , clearly it’s working.”

“No knife this time?” Dick said, his voice betraying him. 

Slade grinned. “I like this furniture, wouldn’t want it to stain.”

Dick swallowed, the food in his stomach threatening to make an appearance. “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“I wasn’t talking about blood.”

Slade pushed away, retaking his seat and pulling out his phone again. 

Dick kept his eyes on him, but when it was apparent that Slade wasn’t going to look his way, Dick’s tension eased just a little. He wanted to be irritated at the suggestion, yet again, that Dick would lose control of his bladder because of this man, but he was too concerned by his situation to let that emotion have the attention it wanted. 

After a long silence, and with nothing to do, Dick braved another question. “Who are you?”

Slade glanced at him, then back to his phone. “You already know that.”

“To me,” Dick clarified. “Who are you to me?”

Slade smiled, apparently pleased with the question. “That’s a long history to cover, but let’s just say, you and I have run into each other plenty of times. Occasionally I tried to kill you, and other times we worked together.”

The admission of prior attempts on his life notwithstanding, Dick couldn’t understand why he would choose to work with the man if he were someone that the bats classed as an enemy. Clearly Dick had been someone that could keep up with Slade, so the chances of surviving a murder attempt had to be high, but why would he consider working with him at all?

“How does that even work?” Dick said, genuinely curious. “You’re one of the bad guys.”

“And your family are the _good_ guys?” Slade said, bemused. “The same people that don’t want you as you are, that left you to fend for yourself in a world you don’t recognise? My choice of career might paint me as the _bad guy_ , but how good are _they_ if that’s how they would treat you?”

Slade wasn’t wrong. While Dick had been the one to flee from the family, he’d done so unknowing of the danger he’d be in once alone. The family _did_ know, and they’d been cagey around him the entire time, keeping all this quiet from him.

He’d run away after the incident in the cave, and it had been a reaction, instant and sure, because seeing his head cock to the side, the soft swish of the bullet through the air before it, seeing blood spurt from his own head had been enough to send him running.

“You woke up to a world that is years ahead of you, with no idea where you are and who your family are, but instead of helping you learn about them, they told you to fix yourself because you’re not what you’re supposed to be.” Slade continued. “It’s no wonder you ran away.”

Dick scowled. He didn’t want to agree with the man who had kidnapped him, but he was right. If Bruce had been more accepting, there was a chance that Dick wouldn’t be here, like this, right now.

“That still doesn’t explain your motivations here,” Dick replied. “Just because you think they did the wrong thing and don’t like it, what do you get out of all this?”

Slade settled back, draping an arm over the back of the chair. “I don’t often get involved in bat business, too much of a pain in the ass, but I’m making an exception this time. You need help, and I’m offering mine.”

“I _had_ help,” Dick countered, folding his arms over his chest. “And you took me away from them.”

“Todd and Harper; neither of which noticed my presence,” Slade countered. “You weren’t safe with them, I’ve proven that.”

“And I’m safer with _you?_ ” Dick replied, incredulous. “The guy who would kill without a care for the person they’re wiping out?”

Slade lifted a brow in amusement. “Your time with me will be much more beneficial.”

Dick didn’t like the sound of that. “They’re going to look for me.”

“They’ll try,” Slade replied, giving a single nod of agreement. “But they won’t find you here.”

“Why not?”

Dick had the sudden concern that they weren’t in Blüdhaven anymore, and if that were true, then Dick didn’t want to know what Slade had planned for him, especially with the unlikelihood that Jason and Roy would be able to locate them.

Slade laughed, amused by a joke that Dick didn’t see. “Because this place is one of yours, Nightwing’s own little safehouse off the grid, and none of the other bats know about it.”

Dick glanced around again, frowning. “It’s mine?”

Slade nodded, Dick noticed out of the corner of his eye. “It is.”

Dick was sceptical about that revelation, because why would he have one that no one knew about?

Jason had his own that the bats weren’t aware of, he’d been staying in it for days now. Had he and Bruce been at odds in the past too? Did Dick make the decision to have his own bat free safehouse as well, just as Jason did?

As far as he knew, he and Bruce had been on good terms before he was shot, but then, this was Nightwing’s city, and it stood to reason that he would have safehouses all over the place, why not have a few that were his alone, without any bats around to know about it.

“If they don’t know,” Dick replied, turning to face him again. “Then how do _you_ know about it?”

Slade suppressed a smirk, barely. “I have my ways.”

It wasn’t much of a safehouse if Slade could find it, but considering what he said about himself, Dick supposed the enhancements helped him discover the place. Hell, maybe Dick had told him about it, since they'd apparently worked together in the past.

But if Slade did find it on his own, did that mean that Bruce would be able to as well?

“Why would I have one that none of them know about? Didn’t I trust them?”

“It’s not about trust, it’s about precaution,” Slade said. “It’s about being ready, having a safe haven to turn to should the worst happen.”

“The worst?”

Slade sighed, as if explaining this annoyed him. “I’m assuming you know what Batman is capable of, now imagine what that would be like if he unleashed that ability on you or your siblings.”

Dick’s head throbbed, and he reached up to rub at his temple.

“Why would Batman attack his own kids?” Dick replied, confused.

“Alien influence, magic, chemical or psychological brainwashing, you name it,” Slade answered, ending his sentence with a small shrug. “It’s called having a contingency plan, thinking about every possible outcome.”

Was Dick the kind of person that could think that far ahead? He couldn’t imagine being able to do that, seeing every possibility and having already come up with a way to deal with it. But Roy had said that he had been the leader of the Titans, so maybe he was good at it before, but he certainly wasn’t now.

Having a safehouse that Bruce didn’t know about was the reason that he had followed Jason, knowing that Jason’s safehouse wouldn’t receive any surprise visitors. That was true until Damian had showed up, and while the kid had scared Dick into thinking his cover had been blown, their talk had helped ease his concerns.

But being _here_ didn’t make him feel safe, not from Slade who had kidnapped him and knowing about the safehouse in the first place, nor from the possibility that Bruce could show up at any moment. At Jason’s, he had the luxury of maintaining his normal life, giving no indication that anything was amiss, but now that Slade had him, it wouldn’t take long for Bruce to know that something was up, and he would come back to check.

It was strange. Dick was more concerned about Bruce than he was about Slade, and that should make alarm bells ring. After everything that Slade had done, he should be fighting back, trying to find a way out, but after Slade’s initial behaviour, he’d been more than amicable now.

He explained things, answered Dick’s questions, brought him to a place that was his and hidden from Bruce. He’d told Dick that he didn’t approve of Bruce’s methods, much like Jason, and his only goal was to make Dick remember his training.

Yes, he was heavy handed, and he wasn’t shy to push Dick with fear to get what he wanted, but his niceties didn’t automatically make Dick trust him, only see the situation as something he could tolerate for now.

Besides, if Slade could make him consciously remember his training, then Dick could get free of him, himself, and find a way back to Jason.

“You’re doing it again,” Slade said, startling Dick.

“Huh?”

“Drifting away,” Slade replied, circling a finger near his own temple. “Lost in thought.”

“Oh,” Dick said. “Sorry.”

The apology was automatic, and Dick turned away at Slade’s raised brows.

“What had you so distracted?”

“A lot of things,” Dick said, settling back into the couch as his head still ached. He didn’t want to think it, but the pain was a warning and he didn’t want to remember something else in front of Slade.

Slade hummed but didn’t press him for more.

They sat in silence, Slade now back on his phone and Dick staring at the room. There wasn’t much to look at, and the only thing that held anything of use was the bookcase. As he looked at it, he could see that it wasn’t filled with books completely, with wide gaps and some shelves empty. He glanced at Slade, then slowly stood, moving quicker when it was clear that Slade wasn’t bothered by his motion.

He padded over to the bookshelf, looking at the spines.

There were an array of subjects, from reference guides to fiction, how-to manuals to history books from various countries. Even some that didn’t have English titles, written in languages he recognised but couldn’t understand.

Slade stepped beside him, reaching out to pick one of the books from the shelf. Dick caught the spine before Slade turned it from view and opened it to a random page. It was one of the books written in a foreign language, this one German. “Erinnerst du dich, wie man Deutsch spricht?”

“What?” Dick said, blinking at Slade in confusion.

Slade chuckled as he looked from the pages to Dick. “Clearly not.”

Dick scowled at him. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Slade closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “I asked you if you remembered how to speak German, that was all.”

“ _Clearly not_ ,” Dick mimicked irritably, turning back to the bookshelf. He waved to it, indicating to all the books. “This is all mine, and I get why these particular books are here because it’s very _Nightwing_ , but it doesn’t connect with me.”

“Not yet,” Slade offered, reaching for another book. Again, Dick caught a glimpse of the spine before Slade opened it to a random page. French history. “And it’s _your_ past, not Nightwing’s.”

“So, the old me enjoyed reading about the history of France?” Dick asked, pointing to the book.

“Knowledge is power,” Slade said, again closing the book and placing it back. “Power gives you a better chance of survival. I’d think your current situation would help you understand that.”

Dick turned back to the bookshelf, no wiser to his past with his perusal. He reached out and ghosted his fingers along the top of the books, reading the titles that he could and scrutinising the ones he couldn’t in case something clicked, then he stopped over the fourth book from the right.

He frowned, wondering why this one made him pause, then he ran his finger down the spine.

The bookcase clicked, popping forward by barely an inch, hinged like a door. Dick stepped back, startled, looking to Slade and seeing the man watching the movement with a knowing smile.

“A biometric scanner in the spine of the book,” Slade said, taking the frame of the bookcase and pulling it open. “Keyed to your fingerprint.”

If Dick wanted confirmation that this place belonged to him, he just got it.

Dick stepped out of the way, peeking inside as lights flickered on. Slade went in ahead of him, and Dick followed. “I have a secret room hidden behind a bookcase?”

“Should that really surprise you?”

“I guess not,” Dick muttered. Bruce Wayne had a secret cave under his mansion, Dick Grayson had a room behind a hidden door.

The room was windowless and narrow, a simple corridor that held an archway at the end. As they neared it, more lights flicked on, and the larger space showed metal cabinets, a computer station, and a military style, fold out bed, with a skinny mattress, sitting in the corner.

Everything held a layer of dust, and it made Dick realise that Slade must have been using his safehouse for himself while he stayed in the city, cleaning it up before he brought Dick here. This area was dusty because he _hadn’t_ been in here to clean it.

Slade opened the tall cabinet as Dick walked toward the computer, tugging off the dust cover from the keyboard.

“This looks old, does it even work?”

Slade looked over his shoulder at him. “Unless you can remember the password to unlock it, it’s a moot point.”

Dick replaced the cover over the keyboard. He turned to Slade, watching as the man pulled his hand out of the cupboard and smiled in his direction, holding something up for him to see.

It looked like one of Batman’s weapons, the throwing blades that were shaped like bats, but this one was different. It was rounder and smaller, but looked dangerous anyway.

“What is that?”

Slade hummed. “It’s a variation of a throwing star, very effective.”

“Like ninjas?”

“Yes,” Slade replied with a chuckle. “Like a ninja.”

“Is everything about this, funny to you?” Dick said, offended with Slade’s amusement at his expense. “I’m not familiar with any of this, and there’s a big difference from watching movies about this kind of thing, to seeing this stuff right in front of me.”

“I understand that,” Slade offered, replacing the throwing star in the cabinet and closing the door. “But hearing you talk like this, it’s hard not to find it funny.”

Back in Gotham, no one laughed at his situation, and Jason and Roy treated him normally, switching between meeting his needs with care and concern, to laughing along with him whenever _he_ joked about his circumstances. They didn’t find Dick’s amnesia _funny_ , and Dick didn’t appreciate Slade taking so much pleasure out of his misfortune.

Dick stomped toward Slade, feeling bold enough to complain. He jabbed a finger at Slade’s chest, ignoring that it was solid and unmoving. “When I remember _how_ to kick your ass, I’m _going_ to, because I don’t like you making fun of me like this.”

Slade’s eye lit up, much like it had after he’d unconsciously fought back before. “You can try.”

Dick backed up, creeped out by the man being happy with that threat, but still brave enough to keep the scowl on his face. “Jesus, you’re so full of yourself.”

Slade’s lip curled up. “No, I’m just that good.”

Dick pointed at him. “I managed to get out of those cuffs, smack you in the face and put one end of the cuffs on you. Apparently, _I’m_ that good too.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” Slade countered. “But you _can_ be.”

As much as Dick didn’t want to be back in the life that nearly killed him, it would be worth knowing how just so he could wipe that smile off Slade’s face.

Dick looked to the cabinet, gesturing to it with a wave of his arm. “What else is in there?”

Slade stepped back, giving Dick room to stand in front of it and open both doors. As he looked inside, the first thing he noticed were three Nightwing suits, hanging limp on hangers, several masks sat on a shelf alongside it. Beneath that, to the right of the suits, were more shelves, all holding various weapons and equipment, from the throwing stars to small, round, metallic balls, to earpieces and funny looking guns that had spikes protruding from the tips.

The earpieces. If he somehow managed to get one, then he’d be able to call for help. But without knowing if that would alert Bruce, it was a last resort as far as he was concerned.

He doubted Slade would let him near them anyway, and trying to pick one up now would show his hand and they’d be gone by the time he made another attempt.

Clipped to the inside of the right-hand door were long metal sticks, in three separated pairs, cradled horizontally on small hooks. They varied in size and shape, some smooth in texture and some that were thinner in the middle than the ends.

Dick reached out for one of the smooth sticks, but Slade grabbed his forearm, avoiding his bandaged wrist.

“Careful,” Slade said as Dick frowned at him. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally electrocute yourself.”

Dick pulled his hand away, suddenly wary. “Nightwing used cattle prods?”

“They’re called Escrimas, and they’re altered to deliver a charge to incapacitate.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Dick said, bewildered. “That could kill someone.”

“Anyone who can hold up in a fight against you isn’t likely to have a weak heart,” Slade replied, but it didn’t offer any comfort to the idea that someone _could_ die from it. “Besides, they’re more likely to suffer permanent damage from a blow to the head with them, but you knew how to use them to prevent that.”

Dick couldn’t imagine bludgeoning someone with one of those. Fists in a ring with controlled blows was one thing, using a metal rod on someone was battery, lethal, and that was frightening to think about.

Dick’s head spiked again, so sudden that he couldn’t hide it, gasping at the pain.

“Grayson?”

Dick stumbled away to put distance between them, back out of the room and into the lounge area again, staggering toward the dining table and falling to his knees beside it. He tried to push back whatever was coming, internally pleading for it not to happen.

His brain had other ideas.

It was dark, silent, and as Dick fell, with Bruce beneath him, shirtless but wearing his cowl, skin cut and blood everywhere, he realised that they were fighting. Both of them had their knuckles wrapped, and Dick’s own arms were littered with open wounds.

They landed hard, impacting and shattering the glass of the car as they hit. He was winded, tired, aching everywhere but that wasn’t the worst pain. No, that pain was inside, with the breaking of his heart and his faith. 

Batman was fighting him, pushing him, and all Dick wanted was his family, to convalesce, take stock of his shattered life. Batman had other plans. 

_If they know our secrets, we won’t be able to fight._

_How can you ask me to do this, Bruce?_

He was poised to land another blow, fighting back even though every part of him wanted to stop and step back, desperate to show his father that he didn’t want this by refusing to continue.

_Do you know how many people will die if we can’t fight?_

Bruce kicked him, hard enough to send him flying backward. 

_How can you do this to me?_

Dick hit the wall hard with his face, grunting at the impact as Bruce ignored his pain. 

_We need a man on the inside, finding out what Spyral knows, what they_ want _to know. We need you._

Dick rolled over, spitting blood from his mouth and glaring at his father. 

_They’ll come for you now. They’ll want someone like you, someone off the grid who know our secrets. If you’re not dead, they’ll come for you. A masked man without a mask._

_After everything, how can you put this on me?_

_Why do we fall, Dick? We fall so we can learn to get back up._

Dick peeled off his mask, gritting his teeth at Bruce. _No, that’s not true. We fall because someone pushes us, and we get back up to push back._

As Dick stood, Bruce lunged, swinging for his face and forcing Dick to block it or lose a tooth. _Things can’t be the same._

_I know the other heroes, I know them all. I’d have them do it but they can’t. They’d fight, but eventually they’d give up, they’d give in, and Spyral would use them to get the rest of us._

Bruce wasn’t listening to him, ignoring his gentle pleas, ignoring his warning.

Dick kept blocking him. _After this, Bruce, after asking this, between us... it can’t be the same again._

_I know I’m hurting you, my family. I’m making this sacrifice because I don’t give up, I don’t give in._

_But what about you?_ Bruce said, landing a punch to Dick’s already pained jaw, spinning him sideways with the power behind it. _After the Crime Syndicate captured you, tortured you,_ killed _you... tell me, Dick, my boy, after all this, will you give up, will you give in?_

Dick snarled, enraged that the man had the audacity to call him his boy after this shit. Forcing this on him. Making him have no choice. Taking his family away from him. 

Throwing him into a pool of starving sharks… alone.

Dick threw everything he had into one solid punch, fuelled by emotion and adrenaline, fuelled by Bruce’s logic that made sense but didn’t hurt any less. 

_I’m not your boy!_

Dick gasped, staring at the floor of the safehouse, unable to catch his breath, already deep into a panic attack. 

Hands gripped his shoulders and spun him around, and he looked at Slade with wide eyes. 

“Look at me,” Slade said, and from the sound of it, he’d been trying to reach Dick before now. “I need you to slow down, slow your breathing.”

Dick shook his head, he couldn’t. 

Slade took Dick’s hand and pressed it to his chest, forcing Dick to feel the calm rise and fall. “Focus on _my_ breathing, not yours. Match mine.”

Dick did as Slade instructed, lowering his eyes to watch Slade’s chest lift and drop, feeling the movement with his hand. 

“Good,” Slade said, warm and gentle. “Keep going.”

It took a while, but once Dick was able to match Slade completely, he noticed just how tired he was. He slumped and Slade shifted, catching him, and leaning him back against the leg of the table. Dick’s head dropped forward. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Dick mumbled, drawing his arms and legs up, making himself as small as possible. 

“Holding it in won’t help,” Slade replied, gripping Dick’s chin to lift his head and bring his attention to Slade. “And you’re hurting.”

Dick swallowed. “Like you care.”

Slade sighed, releasing his chin and pushing himself to his feet. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk.”

“I don’t want your help with this,” Dick muttered, trying to push himself up. Slade took his arm and helped him stand fully.

Unpacking everything he’d seen and felt would take a long time, from the brutality of the fight, to the revelation that Dick had been tortured and... killed. 

He’d died. 

Dick had died and after, when whatever had happened that had brought him to the cave and Bruce, the man had beaten him and twisted him into submission. 

Dick’s anger at Bruce’s words paled in comparison to the sadness, to the dejection of being used, after suffering so much, and Bruce wouldn’t let him have the reprieve he desperately needed. 

What Slade had done to him earlier was nothing more than a gentle tap, not like Bruce, his apparent father, the man who loved him, that had taken him at a low point and pushed, manipulated, forcing Dick to do as he asked. 

It’s no wonder Dick had a place of his own that Bruce didn’t know about. He could hide here, safe from anyone that could hurt him when he was down, protected in a secret shell until he was ready to face the world again. 

“Kid,” Slade said, and Dick turned to face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’ve already said that, and I said it wasn’t a good idea.”

“I’m not discussing my personal life with you, Slade.”

Slade sighed again, irritated with Dick’s stubbornness. “Fine. Go sit down, I’ll get you some water.”

As Slade walked away, Dick stared. The man had given in too easily, considering how pushy he had been since he had taken Dick. He wasn’t fooled by the nice guy act, and he wouldn’t give Slade more to work with than he already had. 

Besides, _he_ wasn’t the one that Dick needed right now.

After the memory, the emotions and the pain, Dick wanted nothing more than his brother, he wanted the comfort that he offered both physically and with the bond as his sibling.

But was that all an act? Would Jason revert to the harsh and aggressive man that Dick had remembered, once his memories came back? Was he only being nice now because of Dick’s current situation?

No, he couldn’t think that way, he _had_ to believe that the Jason of now was not the same person. He couldn’t let this memory of Bruce taint what he had experienced with Jason so far.

And it _was_ Bruce that had shifted his perception. 

Because why would Bruce treat him so harshly? Why would a person that raised him and cared for him do what he had done?

And why the hell had Dick let him?

Was this what his life had been all about? Was this how they treated each other?

Remembering how Jason had fought with him, experiencing Slade and his cold detachment, seeing Bruce attack him while he was already beaten down… everything was brutal.

It was a violent life. His own family were aggressive and volatile, unapproachable. What did that mean for the enemies that would come for Dick in the future? How much worse were they?

Slade was hard, and harsh with his methods, but where he could have left Dick on the ground to suffer alone, he’d made efforts to help. Did that mean that he was telling the truth, at least in some way? Was he really here to help, but simply using methods that he and the others like him were accustomed to, and Dick just _wasn’t_?

Bruce and Jason didn’t hold back, and they’d been far worse than Slade had been.

Slade had blurred the lines, and Dick’s memories were starting to do the same thing. It wasn’t as black and white as Dick had thought, and the grey areas were a confusing mass of uncertainty. The good guys weren’t all good, and apparently the bad guy wasn’t all bad.

Dick shook his head, once again wrapping his arms around himself. He really wished a giant hole would come and swallow him up, because this was getting worse the longer it went on.

* * *

“Uh, guys?”

Jason looked up from the laptop at Tim. “What is it?”

Tim turned his laptop around so they could all see. “It’s an encrypted email, I’ve already run it through a virus scan and decoded it.”

Jason frowned as he read the message, there was an address, and a single sentence beneath. 

_We’ve moved, but feel free to check out where you could’ve found us if you’d been faster._

“Trap,” Roy said, leaning back. “Blatant, clear as day, trap.”

“And yet, we have to go.” Damian replied, looking to his brothers for agreement. 

Tim turned the laptop back, tapping at the keys. “It’s an abandoned apartment block, scheduled for demolition last year, but it was postponed, no reason given.”

Which meant, no cameras. 

If Wilson had already moved, then tracking Dick down now would be impossible, but Wilson wouldn’t have sent them a message to advertise that fact, not unless there was something he wanted them to see. 

“Okay,” Jason said, drawing their attention. “Tim, we’ll go check it out.”

“I’m coming too,” Damian said, standing. 

“No, you have to head back to Gotham.”

“I’m not going,” Damian replied, crossing his arms in refusal. “Richard is missing, and you need me here.”

“We can’t have Bruce getting suspicious, he’d come looking for you the moment he checks and sees your trackers are offline.”

“Wilson has moved Richard, we should consider including him.”

“Not yet.”

“Then when?” Damian rounded the island, standing beside Jason. “How much longer must we hide this? How much longer are we going to risk his life to spare him his discomfort? Grayson’s not even here, he doesn’t need to know.”

“And you think Bruce is going to back off once we get Dick back?” Jason said, turning on his stool to stare Damian down. “I want to find him, I want to get him away from Wilson and keep him from the Court, but I am _not_ letting Bruce come here and undo _everything_ we’ve achieved. You saw it yourself, Damian, he’s letting us in but he’s still a _long_ way off from trusting us completely.”

“Father _will_ listen,” Damian argued. “If we tell him to stay away, he will.”

“No, he won’t,” Jason snapped. “Do you really believe that he’s going to stay away the moment he learns that _Deathstroke_ freaking _kidnapped_ him? He’s going to insist that Dick goes back to the manor, and he won’t take no for an answer this time, he’ll drag him back kicking and screaming.”

“And the first chance Dick gets, he’ll bolt from all of us,” Roy muttered. “Right into the hands of the Court.”

Damian stared at Jason, silently contemplating, then he nodded, looking down. “Fine.”

Jason deflated at Damian’s reluctant acceptance, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “If the situation calls for it, I promise, we’ll bring Bruce into this, but _only_ as a last resort.”

“I don’t want to lose him a second time, Todd,” Damian said, meeting his eyes and showing his determination.

“We won’t,” Jason replied, releasing him.

Tim stood, picking up his mask. “We need to go; we don’t have a lot of time before sunrise. 

  
The place was deserted, but that didn’t make Jason any less observant, and as Tim approached after his own perimeter check, Jason spoke. “Anything?”

Tim shook his head. “No one here.”

“Okay,” Jason said, looking back to the building and scanning it. “Which part of the building are we looking at?”

“The address he gave us used to be for the top floor penthouse, back when this place wasn’t so run down.” Tim replied, pointing to a window on the top left. “And that window looks conveniently cracked open.”

“Let’s go.”

They made their way over, having to use their grapple guns to get to the top from the adjacent building, and then they took the short flight of the fire escape down to the window that was awaiting them.

Tim kept his focus outward as Jason peered inside, seeing only an empty room with hardly any furniture. He checked the frame for triggers, satisfied that nothing was there, then climbed inside carefully. 

“Clear,” he whispered, and Tim followed him in. Jason made his way toward the coffee table, spotting a small object on it that looked a lot like Dick’s meds. And as he neared it, Tim called to him. 

“Hood, we’ve got blood here, looks fresh. Not enough to be life threatening, thankfully.”

Jason looked over to him, seeing Tim crouch down to scrape a sample from the floor. “Looks like Dick’s meds are here too.”

“Why would Slade keep his meds from him?” Tim asked as Jason picked up the bottle. It was a new prescription, one that Dick would have been given by Haas.

“He had _two_ bottles,” Jason said, cracking open the seal and looking inside. The bottle hadn’t been opened before him, which meant Wilson hadn’t tampered with them. “This is a new one that he was given at his appointment yesterday.”

Leaving the medication here and sending them to find it could only mean that Wilson _knew_ , and that he was giving them this to either _show_ that he knew, or he was helping. Jason hoped it was the latter, but he wouldn’t rule out that Wilson had other plans with Dick. 

Taking these meds away from Dick would only make his memories come back, and if Wilson wanted to twist Dick’s head around, then this would go against that plan. Maybe he didn’t want the Court to get their hands on Dick, because he knew as well as they did what the Court would do with him. It was no secret that Wilson had a creepy appreciation of his brother’s skill, and letting the Court turn him into a Talon wasn’t something Jason thought Wilson would approve of. 

But none of that ruled out the possibility of Wilson convincing Dick to see things his way, and it wouldn’t be difficult to make him, not when the Court could have already laid the foundations in his head. 

“What’s that?” Tim said from his side, and Jason internally kicked himself for losing sight of his surroundings. He followed Tim’s finger, seeing something resting on the arm of the single chair in the room. 

Tim moved and picked it up, bringing it back over as he carefully removed the band and unrolled the paper. Inside was a flash drive, and Tim handed it to him as he unfolded the note. 

“You’re welcome,” Tim read aloud. “That’s all it says.”


End file.
